A Christmas Miracle
by KaitlynRose
Summary: The Winchester boys are cold, hungry, separated, and injured on Christmas eve. Can anything make their night of misery any better?
1. Chapter 1

**A Christmas Miracle**

By: KaitlynRose

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Dean or Sam. Please don't sue me. I am not profiting from this story.

Author's Note: Sorry it has been so long since my last story. December has been BUSY!

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"DEAN!" Sam cried as he fell through the rotten floor boards to the basement below. He heard his brother scream his name just before he made contact with the concrete floor. He landed flat on his back and for a moment he couldn't even breathe the pain was so intense.

"SAM!" Dean shouted again and quickly shone the flashlight on Sam from above. "Sammy, talk to me!"

Dean stared in terror at his brother below. Sam's eyes were open and he was blinking, but he wasn't talking or moving.

"Sam, don't try and move. I'm gonna find a way down. Just stay right there!"

Sam didn't have the strength to tell Dean that moving was out of the question at the moment. At least he was finally able to draw in some shallow breaths. Without moving his head he began to look around the basement. It was incredibly dark down here without his flashlight which must have rolled out of his hand and was still upstairs.

Strange noises were coming from the corners of the room he was in. It sounded like rats scampering around. 'Sorry to crash your Christmas party,' Sam thought to himself since it was still too difficult to breath, let alone talk yet.

'Dean is coming,' he told himself. 'Dean is coming.'

Dean tore through the house looking for the stairway down. He opened doors and found plenty of closets but no stairs. Then, in the kitchen he finally found what he needed. There was a trap door in the floor. He pulled on the rusted ring handle and the warped door lifted up and crashed down on the other side sending up a huge cloud of dust.

Dean shined his light on the stairs before him. They were steep and narrow but they looked pretty much in tact. Dean took a tentative step down praying the ancient wood would hold his weight. Once he was sure the steps were safe he hurried down them to the cellar below.

"Sam!" he called. He waited for an answer but didn't get one. He started to search the area but Sam wasn't there. He moved quickly around boxes and cast off furniture. Then he spotted a door on the far wall and took off running for it.

He noticed the door had a metal bar that dropped into two slots, literally barricading it shut. Dean took note of it but he didn't have time to really focus on the detail. He had to find Sam. He lifted the metal bar and pulled the door back. The room was pitch black but when Dean shined his light inside there was his baby brother still lying in the floor on top of a pile of rubble.

"Sammy!" Dean gasped.

"Dean," Sam whispered and rose up his hand to reach out for his brother.

Dean clasped Sam's hand in his own and immediately started checking out Sam for injuries.

"Where does it hurt?" Dean asked.

"My back," Sam ground out. "I can barely move."

Dean was terrified for a moment. "Sam, can you feel your toes?" Dean prayed his little brother wasn't suddenly paralyzed.

"Yeah, unfortunately I can feel everything," Sam groaned.

"Okay, I need to roll you over so I can see what your back looks like. I don't want to take a chance of making you sit up yet." Dean shrugged off his coat and laid it down next to Sam's head so when he rolled him over Sam's face wouldn't be lying on the dirty floor.

Dean was as gentle as he could be but still Sam couldn't stop the small moan that escaped his mouth. Once Dean lifted Sam's shirt it was easy to see what had happened. When Sam fell he landed on a jagged board and the board had punctured into Sam's back.

'Oh fuck,' Dean thought to himself but was careful not to voice his worry out loud. Sam's back was a mess of cuts and scrapes but one wound in particular was really nasty. Towards his side was a gash at least four inches long and about an inch deep and it was bleeding profusely at the moment.

"How bad?" Sam asked.

"Let's just say you won't be entering any dance contests for a while," Dean said as casually as he possibly could. "You did a number on your back, but it's not by your spine, which is good, and the wound doesn't look deep enough to have hit your kidney or anything. Still, I need to get you out of here, now."

"What about the ghost?" Sam asked though clenched teeth.

"She'll have to wait for another day," Dean answered.

Now Sam knew it was bad. Dean didn't abandon a hunt unless something was seriously wrong. Sam had begged Dean earlier to skip the hunt tonight. It was Christmas Eve and Sam had wanted to simply walk up and down Main Street and enjoy the carolers but Dean had insisted on not wasting time on nonsense.

"I'm going to try and help you stand up," Dean told him. "It's going to hurt…a lot."

"Okay," Sam replied. Dean helped him to sit up and they waited a moment for Sam to catch his breath before Dean finally pulled him up to his feet.

Sam was biting his lip so hard to keep from crying out that he suddenly tasted blood in his mouth from where he bit through.

"Okay, we'll take it nice and slow," Dean said. He wrapped an arm around Sam and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulder. He used his free hand to hold the flashlight. Both boys paused when the light fell on the wall of the room.

Slowly, Dean moved the light revealing one grisly sight after another. Skeletons were chained to the wall, a total for seven. By their smaller size they were either women or children.

"Dear god," Sam gasped.

Dean snapped out of the trance he had fallen into and readjusted his hold on Sam. "There's nothing to do for them now. Let's go." His primary goal was to get Sam out of that cellar.

"You need to burn the remains," Sam said quietly.

"I will, tomorrow," Dean replied.

Sam shuffled his feet slowly but surely and little by little with Dean's help they made it to the stairs that would lead back to the kitchen.

"Dean, I don't know if I can climb those," Sam mumbled.

"I'll help you," Dean said as a matter of fact. "Just take it one step at a time."

In the end Sam would raise his foot to the next step, but Dean would have to haul him up before they would repeat the process again.

Dean had never been so grateful when they finally cleared the last step and headed for the door out.

The sun was already gone even though it was only six o'clock. They needed to get out of there before the freaks that haunted the place woke up. There was no way they could do battle tonight.

Dean helped Sam to make it to the car. He opened the door and Sam sat down on the edge of the seat.

"Don't move, I'm gonna get the first aid kit," Dean told him.

He rummaged through the trunk and grabbed the white box. He hurried back to Sam's side and helped him lift his shirt.

"Sam, I don't have time to clean this properly. There are splinters in there that needs to come out but we have to get out of here. I'm gonna disinfect and wrap."

Sam clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew perfectly well was disinfect meant. He dug his fingers into his knees and prepared for what was coming next. Dean took the lid off the bottle of alcohol and gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze before he tipped the bottle over and poured the burning liquid over Sam's mangled flesh.

Sam was in so much pain that he literally started hyperventilating and passed out a few seconds later. Dean caught him as he fell forward into his arms. Dean held him for a moment hoping Sam would come too. He soon realized that Sam wasn't going to wake up and positioned Sam into the front seat but not before placing a towel over the back of the chair to protect the seat from getting covered in blood.

He placed a hand on Sam's forehead and saw that Sam was feverish and clammy, but that was to be expected. He was probably suffering from a bit of shock. He collected the baby blanket from the trunk and wrapped Sam up in it. He actually smiled for a moment at the thought of the blanket. It wasn't really a baby blanket, but that's how he thought of it. The blanket was as old as Sam was and had seen better days. Sam had even suggested replacing it a few months ago but Dean had refused. This blanket had been used to keep Sam warm on a many a night while he and his father hunted and Sam slept safely in the back seat.

Once Sam was tucked into the front seat and Dean placed his seat belt on him he threw the first aid kit in the back seat and hurried around to the driver's side. He climbed in the car and floored it out of the driveway, a spray of dirt and gravel shooting behind the car as he pulled on to the road.

Dean drove back to the small bay harbor town and parked the car in front of a small store that was all lit up and decorated for Christmas. He ignored the lights and the green pine boughs hanging from every lamp post and traffic light. He pulled out his wallet and found thirty-two dollars in it. Shit! That wasn't anywhere near enough to rent a motel room in this place.

He reached into Sam's pocket and pulled out his wallet. The action caused Sam to stir and roll his head to his side so he could face Dean. He watched as Dean opened his wallet and pulled out the three singles that was tucked in it.

"Sam, do you have any more money?" Dean asked.

"No," Sam replied.

Dean sighed. Okay, they would just have to sleep in the car tonight. He looked at the dash and cursed silently under his breath. The car was almost on empty. There was no way Sam could sleep in a freezing car tonight. His body was already hurt and he was suffering the effects of shock. The cold and the blood loss would present a real danger to Sam.

Dean's stomach rumbled but he ignored it. He knew Sam was just as hungry as he was. All they had had for breakfast this morning was a doughnut and a cup of coffee and they had skipped lunch to save money.

"Dean, it's okay," Sam said. "We'll just sleep in the car. We've done it before."

"It's too cold to sleep in the car," Dean spat. He was angry, but not at Sam. He was angry at the entire situation. Sam was hurt…again…reminding him that he had failed once more to protect his baby brother. They were cold, hungry, and at the moment, without shelter. Yep, life was pretty much fucked.

"I'm sorry," Sam said. This was his fault. "I should have paid more attention to where I was walking. I should have known the floor wouldn't hold."

"Sam, I had just walked over the very spot you stepped on a moment earlier. It looked solid. It wasn't your fault."

Dean started the car and drove to the gas station at the corner of the block. He put four dollars worth of gas into the tank. He spent another three dollars on Sam to get him a can of coke and a deli sub from the cooler. He didn't get anything for himself. With Sam being hurt he needed it more. He still needed to stitch up Sam's back and remove any splinters still embedded in his flesh.

Dean ran a shaky hand through his hair as he tried to hold the worry at bay. Once more he wished his father was there to help. He needed his father desperately, tonight more than ever. It was Christmas for crying out loud. Couldn't the Winchesters catch a break just once? Did the cosmos or the powers that be really hate them that much?

"Suck it up," he told himself stubbornly. He didn't have time to stand there and wallow in pity or self doubt. Sam needed him. He was in charge now. Dad wouldn't want him to fall apart.

He needed a plan. First, he needed to find a place for Sammy to rest and be warm. Second, they needed money. Then he would be able to get a motel and take care of Sammy's back. He was halfway to the car with Sam's food when he stopped and went back into the gas station.

"Hey, is there a shelter around here somewhere?"

"Yeah," the attendant said. "Go down five blocks to Willis and turn right. It's about four miles further and you'll come to St. Bart's. It's not in the best neighborhood but that's the only shelter I know of."

"Thanks," Dean replied and jogged back to the car. Inside Sam had fallen back to sleep but jerked awake when Dean pulled the door shut. He cracked open the coke and held it up to Sam's lips. Sam took a long drink of the cold liquid.

"I got you a sandwich," Dean said. He pulled the wrapper off and handed it to Sam.

"Where's yours?" Sam asked.

"I ate inside," Dean lied. Sam didn't buy it for a minute. He pushed the sandwich back to Dean.

"You need this," Sam said.

"Damn it, Sam. You're hurt and you're going to get sick if you don't eat."

"We share it or I don't eat," Sam insisted, even though he was starving.

"Just…"

"No!"

Dean frowned and let out a pissed off sigh of frustration. He ripped the small sub in half and passed the larger piece to Sam. Finally his brother took the food and started to eat. Sam kept an eye on Dean to make sure he ate his piece. It wasn't much but it was better than nothing.

"I found a place for you to sleep. There's a church shelter not to far from here." Dean started the engine and drove down to Willis St. and turned. They stopped at a light and Dean watched as a family across the street was arriving at what looked to be the grandparents house. People in the house ran out side and women were hugging as men pulled out large wrapped packages from the back of an SUV.

The house was decorated outside as well as inside. Dean could see the living room through the large picture window and through the open front door. He could imagine the food that was probably cooking in the kitchen and the children that were huddled around the Christmas tree. Dean had had that type of Christmas once, long, long ago. Sammy on the other hand had never experienced the scene that was unfolding in front of him.

There had never been a giant tree for Sam, or a pile of presents wrapped in shiny paper with bows. He had never sat at a table surrounded by cousins and aunts and uncles with a giant turkey in the middle. It wasn't fair. Sam shouldn't have to spend his Christmas like this. But then, Sam had begged him not to go on a hunt tonight. Why had he been so insistent that they go to the house tonight and battle the ghosts inside? When exactly had Dean started to grow more like their father?

Actually, Dean knew the answer to that one. It was the day Sam left for Stanford. Sam had been the thing that reminded Dean that there was good and innocence in the world, and Sam had kept Dean from going to the dark side, but then he left, and there was nothing to keep Dean from finally building that wall around his heart. Dad had only encouraged Dean to build the wall higher and thicker until even the return of Sammy couldn't fully penetrate it anymore.

Dean continued to sit at the traffic light, even though it had changed from red to green several times. The family was now inside the house but he could still see them through the picture window and the smiles on their faces were like a knife cutting into his heart. He felt a longing so deep, so powerful that it scared him. All his life he had said he never wanted to be normal, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to grab Sammy and go knock on that door and beg the family inside to let them in, to let them belong somewhere.

A horn honking behind them caused Dean to flinch and pulled himself from his daze and continued on towards the shelter glancing now and then at the twinkling lights that graced the houses he passed. As he drove further and further away from Main Street the area grew less opulent. The pretty town houses and large family homes gave way to smaller houses with the shades drawn and then to houses that would be called fixer uppers.

He crossed a street called Harbor Bend and then the area suddenly became down right slummy. Two bums were standing on the corner with a bottle they passed back and forth. The buildings and apartment complexes were old and run down, some windows were covered with plywood. Dean felt hesitant to leave Sam alone in a place like this but he really didn't have any other choice.

A couple of streets further and Dean found St. Bart's. He parked his car and prayed no one tried to steal it while he was inside.

"Sam, wake up bro." He gave him a gentle shake on his shoulder.

Sam opened his eyes and attempted to stretch out his muscles but gasped at the pain movement caused.

"Come on, we need to get you inside," Dean coaxed. He got out of the car and hurried to Sam's side and helped him to stand up.

Sam took a moment to look around and shuddered. "Dean, are you sure we're safe here?"

"It'll be okay. I'll make sure you have a gun with you while I'm gone."

"Gone?" Sam jerked. "You're leaving?"

"Just for a little while," Dean explained. "I'm going to run to the bar and see if I can get us some more money."

"Let me come with you," Sam begged. He didn't want to be left in this scary place by himself.

"I already told you, it's too cold for you to sleep in the car. You'll have a bed and heat here." Dean was half carrying Sam inside the building, not because Sam was injured but because Sam was resisting being led inside.

Inside the door sat a large man wearing a security guard uniform. "The two of you?" he asked.

"Actually, just one," Dean said. "I'm not staying."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Oh, he had a few too many, ya know…Christmas and all."

The guard just shrugged. "Fine, there are a few beds at the end. If he needs to throw up the bathroom is also in back and to the right."

"Thanks," Dean said and helped Sam down the long corridor of beds. They both looked at the men who were lying in those beds. Some were old and frail, but many were large and burly looking. They passed two men who were fighting over a five dollar bill that had landed on the floor.

Dean tried to pretend that the smell of urine wasn't there. He tried to believe that Sam would be just fine here for a few hours. He tried to pretend that he didn't feel Sam trembling next to him as he continued to pull him along.

Finally they reached an empty bed and Sam stared at it. It was dirty and lumpy looking. A paper thin pillow sat at the top and an even thinner blanket was rolled up at the bottom. A few feet away was the bathroom and they could hear someone inside retching. The sound made Dean want to gag.

"Dean, please don't leave me here," Sam begged again. "Don't leave."

Dean sat Sam down on the dirty mattress and slid the gun into the back of his pants and pulled his coat down to hide it.

"Sam, I promise it'll only be for a few hours. Once I win some money I'll be back and I'll take you somewhere better."

Sam's eyes were glistening with moisture as he accepted the fact that he was indeed going to be left here…hurt and alone and hungry…on Christmas Eve no less.

"Just lie down and go to sleep," Dean pleaded. "If you're asleep the time will fly by before you even know it." He lifted Sam's legs off the floor and pushed him back gently so that he was laying flat.

"If I sleep I'll dream," Sam said, sounding very much likethe small child Dean remembered from years ago.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sam was not making this any easier, but then Dean would be damned if he wanted to be left here by himself either, especially if he was in the condition Sammy was currently in.

"Then don't sleep. Just close your eyes and relax, okay?" Dean unrolled the blanket and draped it over his baby brother.

Sam finally nodded his head. Dean was about to stand up and leave but Sam's hand shot out and grabbed Dean's arm. Dean looked back at Sam.

"A couple of hours?"

"That's right; I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Be careful."

Dean forced a smile. "I will, and you too." He ruffled Sam's hairbefore standing up and hurrying out of the church back to the car. He had to get out of there. He couldn't believe he had just left Sam in that rat hole, but what choice did he have? He jumped into the driver's seat and pulled himself together. Okay, he needed to find a bar. Even on Christmas Eve the bars would still be open.

He decided to go back to the middle class neighborhood he had passed through to find a place to gamble. If he found a bar near here there was a good chance he would be shot if he got caught cheating.

It didn't take long to find a local tavern and he parked the car. He counted his money once again. He had twenty-eight dollars. He would need to win a few hands right off the bat. If he lost the money he had they would really be screwed.

Inside there wasn't anyone playing poker, but there were several pool tables with games in full swing. Perfect. Usually he would lose on purpose to sucker someone into bigger and bigger bets but tonight he decided to just win out right and make a quick buck. Then he could hop to another joint and try for a better hustle.

He walked up to a table where two men were playing. "Mind if I join?" Dean asked.

"We're playing for money," the blond guy said. He looked to be about Sam's age, maybe a college kid.

"Perfect," Dean smiled.

"Put your twenty on the table," the kid said.

Dean laid the bill down and picked up a stick. Ten minutes later he was twenty dollars richer. After that he played the kid's friend and was another twenty dollars richer.

"Another game?" Dean asked.

"Nah, I think we've had enough," the blond kid replied, pouting much the way Sam did at times.

'Okay, well thanks for the game," Dean said. He stuffed the money in his pocket and headed for the door. As he stepped outside he noticed that a block down was another bar. Perfect.

He left the car where it was and walked down the street and entered the new place. This bar was a bit skuzzier than the last. There was a large group of bikers at the pool table. Dean decided to avoid the Hell's Angels but smiled when he saw a poker game going on at a table in the corner.

He sauntered over to the table. "Is this a private game or can anyone join?"

"Piss off," came a reply from an older man who was clearly drunk.

"Hey, sorry, I meant no offense," Dean said as he pulled sixty dollars from his pocket. "I simply wanted to play."

"What the hell," another player said. "If you want to lose your money I'll be more than happy to take it."

"Cool," Dean said and had a seat.

"Hey, Martha, get this lad a beer, will ya?" the friendly gambler yelled.

The cards were dealt and Dean lost twenty dollars in the first round. His luck improved with the second round, for which he was grateful since he had put in his entire forty. He won the hand and suddenly had $200.00. He would have loved to have gotten up and left right then and there but he knew that would look bad. He'd need to play at least three or four more hands. He'd just make sure to fold if the hands were less than perfect.

Three hands later he was down to $185, having lost five from placing a bet each time. The next hand however he decided to go for it when he was dealt three aces. He raised the bet several times and soon there was several more hundred dollars in the pot. It took every bit of control Dean had when he got his two new cards and was given two eights to go with his three aces.

Dean's winning hand was met with several curses as he scooped up his winnings and bid his fellow gamblers good night. He didn't count his money, one never counted the money at the table, but he guessed he had almost four hundred dollars. He shoved most of the money into his pocket but palmed the rest in his hand. He bent down to tie his shoe and in the process shoved several twenties inside of it. It was an old trick his father had taught him. He then tied the other shoe and again slipped several more bills into that shoe.

It was time to go and collect Sam and get him a real place to stay for the night, and get him some real food.

Dean was half way back to the car when he heard the footsteps coming up behind him. He turned and prepared to fight but was caught off guard when he saw three of the bikers from the pool table standing there.

"Hand over the money and we won't kill you," one of them said.

"No way," Dean said.

"Fine, we do this the hard way," another said and cracked his knuckles loudly.

The fight was a sight to see. Dean had managed to hold his own for several minutes, breaking one's nose and cracking another's jaw, but then the three managed to get the upper hand Dean took a blow to the head that knocked him to the ground. He lay there face down in the snow and he felt them rifling through his pockets but he was too dazed to stop it.

"I got it," one called and they walked away from Dean and just left him there.

Slowly Dean pulled himself to his knees and shoved his hand in his pocket. The money he had had in there was gone. Fuck! At least he had the little bit he had hidden in his shoes. It wasn't much, but it would get Sam into a motel.

Dean made it to the car and locked the doors. He drove down a few streets and then pulled over. He took the money out of his shoes and counted it. He still had a hundred dollars. It was more than he thought he had.

He looked at his watch. It was now going on nine o'clock. He drove back to St. Bart's and hurried inside. Once more he was greeted by the security guard and the obnoxious odor that permeated the place. He hurried past the beds to where he left Sam but something was wrong when he got there. The bed that he had left Sam in was empty.


	2. Hurt and Alone

Chapter 2: Hurt and Alone

Sam fought to keep the tears in his eyes from falling as he watched Dean walk away from him. Sam honestly couldn't remember a time he had felt more vulnerable and alone then he did right then. He pulled his thin blanket more tightly around him as he shivered not from cold but from fear and pain.

How had his life come to this? Homeless and alone on Christmas Eve, not even his brother to keep him company? He tried to remind himself that Dean wasn't actually abandoning him but with as miserable as he felt it was hard to take comfort in the knowledge. Dean had left him alone in this horrible place.

He could hear the two men who had been fighting over the five dollars getting louder and louder as the fight progressed and punches were thrown. Several other men started to yell and shout. Sam shut his eyes tight and pulled his blanket over his head trying to pretend that he was invisible.

He heard several of the cots get knocked over and then the noise grew louder as the fighters began to move around and more people joined in. The lights were turned on by someone and just as Sam lifted the blanket to see what was happening he saw a tall man get punched in the face and fall towards him.

Sam rolled off his bed and dropped to the floor to avoid getting squashed but his actions were in vain. He hit the floor on his side which caused his back to scream in pain and then the man that landed on his cot hit it so hard the cot flipped and both the bed and the large man landed on Sam.

"Ahhh!" Sam gasped.

"WHAT"S GOING ON IN HERE?" the security guard shouted. "ALL OF YOU, OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"Man, that's bull! Why should I get kicked out? It was all his fault!" someone yelled.

"Like hell it was!"

Sam groaned as the person lying on him pulled himself off but no one came to help push the bed off of him so Sam laid in the floor not moving, not caring if the bed stayed on him or not.

"Come on, son, you have to go too," a gruff voice ordered.

Sam didn't move. He didn't even realize that the gruff voice was talking to him. He felt someone finally pick up the bed and put it right side up. Then the mattress was picked up as well. Again, Sam didn't move. He felt a new wetness on his back which told him his injuries had reopened and were bleeding freely again.

"Come on, boy. You have to go. We don't allow fighting here." The gruff voice was a bit softer this time but still commanding. Sam felt someone grab his arm and hoist him to his feet.

"I…I wasn't fighting," Sam mumbled. "Some one fell on me." He was swaying slightly as he stood before the guard trying to focus on the stern face in front of him. "Please, just let me lay down. I just need to lay down."

The guard felt bad for the kid but rules were rules. He mistook Sam's swaying for drunkenness and said, "I'm sorry kid, but you're going to have to find some place else to sleep it off."

The guard took Sam by the arm and led him to the back door. He pushed it open and Sam stepped out into the alley behind the church. The door shut behind him with a resounding click and suddenly Sam found himself out of the frying pan and into the fire. Sam didn't know what to do. He was alone, had no money, no car, and no where to go.

He slid down the wall of the church and curled up into a tight ball on the ground. He stopped fighting the need to hide his tears and let them flow freely.

"Dean…God…anyone…I could use a little help here," Sam choked out between sobs. Sam spent the next thirty minutes slowly crying him self to sleep. In the back of his mind he knew he shouldn't let himself fall asleep while out in the cold, and yet he was powerless to stop it.

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"SAM!" Dean called loudly. He ran into the bathroom to see if Sam was in there but all he found was two drunks. He ran back to Sam's cot and looked around frantically. Maybe Sam had gone to a different bed, but he couldn't see him anywhere.

"SAM!"

"Shut up, I'm trying to sleep here!" someone shouted at Dean.

Dean kneeled down next to Sam's bed and touched his fingers to a spot on the floor. Blood! Oh god, where was Sam? What had happened? He took off running to the security desk.

"Hey, I brought my brother in here earlier. He was sleeping in the back. He's gone. Do you know where he is?"

"Was he a tall skinny kid?" the guard asked.

"Yes! Yeah that's Sammy! Where is he?"

"I made him leave. Several people got in a fight and he was involved. We have strict rules here and we enforce them."

"You kicked him out! He was hurt! Where is he now? Where did he go?"

"I don't know. I shoved him out the back door and haven't seen him since," the guard told him.

"Where's the back door?" Dean asked.

"In the back. Where do you think it would be?" the guard smarted off.

Dean hurried to the back and saw the door. He shoved it open and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sam curled up on the ground next to the door. His relief was short lived though when he realized Sam was asleep. Dean dropped to his knees and tried to wake his brother.

"Sammy! Sammy, wake up," Dean begged. He pulled Sam into his arms and shook him over an over.

"Dean…help…me," Sam moaned but didn't open his eyes.

"Sammy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you here," Dean choked out. He struggled to get his arms under Sam. He couldn't lift him though.

"Sam, you have to help me. Wrap your arms around my neck," Dean ordered. Sam continued to lay there limp in Dean's arms. Dean hated to do it but he slapped Sam across the face. Sam's eyes popped open and he stared at his brother.

"You came back," Sam whispered.

"Of course I came back," Dean told him. "I'll always come back for you. Sam, wrap your arms around my neck. Hold on tight."

Sam did as ordered and Dean was able to get a better hold on Sam and he lifted his larger brother into his arms and stumbled back to the car. Once at the car Dean found that he couldn't get his car keys out of his pocket and hold Sam. As gently as possible he dropped Sam's legs but made sure to hold him tightly lest he fall. He got out his keys and unlocked the door.

He lowered Sam into the seat and put his seat belt on him before finally shutting the door. Dean got in the car and went in search of a motel.

He didn't see any in the neighborhood they were in so he drove back up Willis to the middle class neighborhood where he had earned some money. He spotted a motel but the sign read NO VACANCY.

He kept driving and was now in the classier neighborhood when he saw the next motel. He pulled into the parking lot and let out a growl of frustration. The place was closed for Christmas.

Before he knew it he was back on Main Street looking out at the bay. He saw a large hotel that was literally right on the water. Dean didn't even bother to go in the parking lot. They didn't have enough money to stay there, not even in one of the cheap rooms.

"This isn't happening," Dean groaned. He dropped his head onto the steering wheel and resisted the urge to scream. Okay, they wouldn't be staying in a hotel tonight. They were still okay. Dean had some money now. He'd fill the gas tank and they would just sleep in the car like originally planned. Maybe they could find a McDonalds or some place with a bathroom so he could at least clean Sam's back. If it wasn't taken care of soon infection would set in for sure.

Sam stared out the window of the car looking at the beautiful decorations that were hung everywhere. The seaside little shops were all closed now but they had all left on their Christmas lights making a picture perfect scene before them.

The next moment large fluffy snowflakes began to softly fall making the world look like a giant snow globe. It was awe inspiring. Sam turned his head to look at Dean. His brother's face wore a frown and he was deep in thought.

"Dean," Sam called softly.

"Yeah?" Dean turned and checked on Sam, thinking something was wrong. "What is it?"

"Merry Christmas," Sam said with a pained smile.

"What?" Dean gasped; sure that Sam was now delusional.

"I said, Merry Christmas. It's our first one together since, well, in a long time."

Dean gave Sam a serious look and then said, "Bah, humbug." Honestly, here he was worrying about how they were going to survive the night and Sam was sitting there wishing him a Merry Christmas. His baby brother might have been the family brainiac, but at the moment he was talking nonsense.

Dean's thoughts were interrupted by a tapping on the window. His head whipped around and he found himself suddenly staring at Santa Claus. "What the hell?"

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Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is so short but it was the best I could do on Christmas Eve. I have mass quantities of food that I have to start cooking ASAP. I hope you enjoy it. MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY HOLIDAYS to all!


	3. A Good Samaritan

Chapter 3: The Good Samaritan

Dean blinked his eyes and realized that the person standing before them wasn't actually Santa Claus, but just a man who looked a lot like him. He wore a brown bowler hat, a long tan wool coat with a Burberry scarf wrapped around his neck. His face though, his face was the one you saw on almost every Christmas card or in every shopping mall. It was broad and happy with the flowing white beard and hair hanging in the back. He wore a pair of glasses and walked with a mahogany cane at his side.

Dean finally rolled down the window and asked the man what he wanted.

"I say young fellow, would you boys mind giving me a ride back to my hotel. I stepped out to take my evening constitutional but now the snow has started falling and I dare say I went too far. These old legs are giving out on me I'm afraid."

Dean was hesitant. The man looked harmless but that didn't mean he wasn't a shape shifter or something just as bad. Sam seemed to read his mind.

"Dean, it's okay," Sam said.

"I'm not sure," Dean whispered.

Sam stared at him. "I am. Trust me. I feel this is right."

Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes but he had learned to trust Sam's 'feelings' when they came.

Dean opened his door and helped the old man into the back seat.

"Where is your hotel?" Dean asked.

"It is right over there," he pointed. Dean saw he was pointing to the hotel on the water, the one that was too expensive for him and Sam to sleep in.

Dean got in and drove the couple of blocks and then pulled into the lot and up to the door.

"Actually, why don't you park the car and you boys can come inside with me. It's a cold evening and I'm sure you would like to freshen up and maybe have something to eat. I'm alone this Christmas and would really appreciate the company."

Dean was working on auto pilot and was ready to say no when he looked at Sam and saw his brother grimacing in pain.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Dean asked. "I mean, you don't even know us."

"True, but I'm an excellent judge of character and I think it is safe to say that I am probably safer with you two than with most people."

Dean was caught off guard by that answer. Who was this old guy and what did he know exactly?

"At the very least you should bring your younger brother inside and tend to his back. I dare say he is hurting quite a bit."

"How do you know about that?" Dean asked.

"The same way Sam knows that you two are safe in my presence."

"What are you?" Sam asked.

"A man…but I guess you could say that I also have 'the shining' as your brother likes to call it."

"You…you do? How? Can you control it? How old were you when it started?"

"Calm down son. I'll answer your questions, Sam, in due time, but right now you need to get inside and be properly taken care of, if Dean will agree to my help that is."

Dean still wasn't convinced this was a good idea, but Sam did need to have his wounds cleaned and the man was offering them a free meal. He didn't usually take help from strangers, but this was different. Sam was hurt.

"What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Nick."

"Okay, Nick, we'll come in with you."

"Splendid."

Dean parked the car and helped Nick out of the back seat before hurrying around the car to assist Sam. Once more he wrapped his arm around Sam and pulled Sam's arm over his shoulders.

"After you," Dean said.

Nick nodded politely and led the way into the lavish hotel. The lobby was decorated all in pine and gold. A ten foot tree stood to one side and a table was laid out with hot coffee, cocoa, and cookies.

Both Sam and Dean felt their mouths start to water. They by passed the refreshment table and followed Nick to the elevator. They caught several people looking at them, staring at two dirt covered people who had dared to intrude upon their perfect little world. Inside the elevator both men were shocked when Nick pressed the button for the pent house suite. A minute later they stepped into the hall and walked to a set of double doors.

"We are the only people on this floor," Nick told them. "So you don't have to worry about anyone else."

Sam tried his best to keep walking but he was leaning more and more on Dean as they passed the threshold and into the five star luxury suite. No sooner did Nick shut the door then Sam's legs finally buckled and he began to drop to the living room floor, but as usual, Dean had a firm grasp on him and held him up.

"My goodness," Nick exclaimed. "Quick, the spare bedroom is through here."

For the second time that night Dean lifted Sam up and carried him down the short hall and deposited him onto a king size bed.

"I'm sorry," Sam moaned.

"Don't be," Dean told him. "I told you earlier, this wasn't your fault. You had an accident."

"Remove his clothes. I'll be back with some warm water and clean towels. I'll ring the concierge and see if they have a doctor on site."

"No," Dean called. "We don't have money for a doctor. I can take care of him."

"I know you can…and have," Nick said with a smile, "but tonight there is the means to have a professional do it and I think you should allow me to call the doctor. He is running a fever. If you are not careful infection is going to set in. As for the cost, don't worry about it."

Finally Dean consented and Nick left the two brothers alone to fetch some supplies.

"Sammy, who is this guy? What are your…vibes…telling you?"

"I don't know who he is. I just know that we're safe here. He really does just want to help, no strings attached."

"But why?"

"I wish I knew, but Dean, I swear, you can trust him."

"Fine, I'll trust him for now, but I'm keeping an eye on him anyway." Sam just smiled. Dean would always be Dean, always be the protector, even when there was nothing to protect him from.

Dean carefully removed Sam's parka. The inside of the coat was soaked with Sam's blood. He wasn't even sure if the coat could be cleaned. Sam's shirt was a total loss. Not only was it covered in blood but it had been shredded from the fall. Dean balled it up and dropped it onto the coat.

Nick entered the room and he laid a towel across the bed to protect it from blood and then Sam lay down on his stomach while Dean carefully washed the blood from his back. Several of the smaller cuts had already scabbed over but the large gash on Sam's side was still oozing blood.

The skin around the cuts was red and swollen and a few of them had puss seeping from them. That was a bad sign.

A knock came from the front door and Nick excused himself to answer it. A minute later he returned with a middle aged man dressed in a casual suit carrying a traditional doctor's bag. Dean saw the doctor blanch as he looked at Sam's back. The man might have been a doctor but if he worked for the hotel he was probably used to treating headaches and stomach aches.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I'm afraid my grandson here had a dreadful accident," Nick spoke up. "We were all walking down by the pier when he was knocked over the rail by some hooligan. He landed on the rocks below."

Dean caught the fact that Nick had called Sam his grandson but decided to let the cover story stand.

The doctor sat on the side of the bed and began to examine the wounds more closely.

"You really should take your grandson to the hospital. This cut here is serious."

"No hospital," Sam croaked out.

"As you can see, the boy is terrified of hospitals. Please, if you could help him, I promise you will be compensated for you time and efforts."

Dean was sitting on the other side of Sam gripping his hand tightly waiting for the doctor to decide what he was going to do. Finally the man pulled off his jacket and said, "I'm going to need my instruments boiled in hot water. He's going to need stitches and to have these wounds cleaned. Luckily I have a local anesthesia I can give him so it won't hurt too much. I can give him some pain medication too, but be aware that it will make him a little groggy."

"Thank you," Dean said to the man. Some of the tension he had been carrying for the past several hours was actually starting to ease.

"I'll also be sure to leave some antibiotics. Some of these cuts are already infected but the medicine should stop the infection before it progresses much further."

Thirty minutes later Dean was once again sitting on the side of the bed next to Sam who was now awake and resting comfortably in the bed. His back had been stitched and gauze bandages circled his entire torso. The pain medicine had kicked in and Dean tried not to laugh at how slurred Sam speech was. He watched as Sam stared at him intently. Sam's eyes were getting heavier and heavier but he was fighting sleep. Every couple of seconds he would shutter and pry his eyes back open.

"Sam, you said yourself, we're safe here. Get some rest."

"Promise you won't leave the pent house," Sam mumbled. "You won't go away."

"I promise I'll never leave you behind like that ever again," Dean swore. "I never expected them to kick you out. I'm sorry. I thought I was doing what was best but it didn't go as planned."

"It's okay," Sam replied and finally closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Nick had watched the interchange between the two boys from the hallway. He was glad that he had helped them tonight. He had been standing on the street waiting for them to show up for at least twenty minutes. He had known they were coming and that it was important for him to be there. He knew what they did for a living, and he knew the pain they suffered, the loneliness, and even the fear, spoken and unspoken.

Nick looked up at the ceiling as if he were talking to an invisible friend. "I know what I have to do. I know exactly what those two boys need." Glancing at his watch he saw that it was 10:30. He smiled happily and went for the phone.

He dialed the front desk for the second time and asked to speak to the manager. He knew the manager here quite well, had even played a round of golf with him once.

"Nick, how can I help you?" Alex asked.

"Alex, I have a bit of an emergency here. My two grandsons showed up unexpectedly. One is very sick I'm afraid and to make matters worse their luggage was lost by the air port. They have had a simply dreadful evening."

"I'm sorry to here that. How can I help?"

"Well, for starters, they are both starving. I know the kitchen is closed but is there anyway I can get some food up here?"

"Certainly. There is a wedding going on in the main banquet hall tonight."

"A Christmas wedding, how lovely," Nick replied.

"We always make extra just in case of unexpected participants. I'll have Margaret arrange several plates and have them sent up. I believe the menu is beef tenderloin, roasted red potatoes, and some other items."

"That will be perfect. Also, send up a bottle of red wine, and one of your house chocolate cakes. I want to give the boys a real Christmas Eve dinner. I would also appreciate if you could find me a poinsettia plant or two and if someone could go into the Brooks Brother store downstairs and box up a couple of shirts and pants, and I need one winter jacket. My youngest grandson's got ruined tonight."

"Dear me, your boys most certainly did have a terrible night tonight," Alex replied.

"You have no idea," Nick agreed. "You could say this is a full blown Christmas emergency."

"I think I can assure you that your grandsons will get a real Christmas. Just give me an hour and it will all be taken care of. I just need to know the boys sizes."

He gave Alex the sizes he needed for the clothes and even asked for a few other items to be wrapped for presents. He told Alex to label the boxes for Dean and Sam. Then he hung up the phone. He walked back into the room where Sam was sleeping and saw Dean was sitting on the bed next to Sam. His arms were folded across his chest and his eyes were closed with his head leaning against the head of the bed. Most people would think that Dean was asleep, but Nick knew the hunter was alert as ever and guarding Sam closely. He still didn't completely trust Nick, but that was okay. Nick knew trust would come once Dean felt a little safer about their situation.

He knocked on the door and went inside. Dean's eyes were instantly open and watching Nick.

"The bathroom is right there," Nick pointed to the adjoining room. "Why don't you go freshen up a bit?"

"I'm fine. I don't want Sam to wake up alone," Dean explained.

"I'll sit with him," Nick offered. He saw the leery look on Dean's face. "There is a hotel bathrobe on the back of the door for you to wear and I'll have your clothes sent to the laundry if you like,"

"Dean was torn. I shower would be nice, real nice, but he still didn't feel right about leaving Sam drugged and alone with a stranger.

"I know I'm a stranger, but I tell you I honestly just want to help."

"Why?" Dean asked. It was a simple but yet direct question.

"Because my help is needed. It's what I do. You and your brother help people for no reason other than to help them. I decided a long time ago to do the same. I may not kill monsters and demons, but I am proud of the little bit of good that I am permitted to do."

For the first time Dean was truly starting to believe that this man was an ally and not a foe. He stood up and stretched his sore muscles. He hadn't received to bad of a beating when he was mugged tonight, but he had gotten knocked around a bit and was settling sore. A hot shower would help a lot.

"You promise to stay with him?" Dean asked.

"I do. I'll come for you at once if something should happen."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Dean took a last look at Sam and then went to the bathroom and closed the door.

Nick had a seat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair out of Sam's eyes. The boy looked so young. It was hard to believe how many awful things he had seen in his short life.

Sam somehow noticed the change in the room. Even unconscious Dean's presence was no longer felt. He slowly opened his eyes and looked into the warm face of their savior tonight.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked.

"Don't worry. He didn't break his promise. He is in the bathroom taking a shower."

"Dean would never break his promise," Sam said with a touch of pride in his voice.

"You love your brother very much," Nick said.

"Of course. Dean, he's always there. He raised me." Sam lifted his hand and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"I'm going to get a cool cloth for your head. I'll be right back," Nick said. He stepped out of the room and left Sam to his thoughts.

He felt guilty for thinking that Dean was abandoning him tonight. Dean would never leave Sam behind. Well, he hadn't been completely sure of that a few weeks ago after what happened at the asylum.

A moment later Nick returned with a large bowl of water and some linens. He wiped Sam's face clean and then put a folded washcloth on his forehead to help with the fever. Then he used another cloth and began to wash Sam's arms and hands of the grime that currently covered them from the cellar.

"You don't have to do that," Sam said.

"Nonsense, it's no trouble," Nick told him. "I remember doing this for my sons when they were young."

"Where are your sons now?"

"Dead," Nick said. "One died in the first Gulf War, the other died a few weeks later in a car crash. They were all the family I had left."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"It was such a long time ago, and yet some pains never truly go away. They become more bearable, but they always remain."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Nick said. "What happened to Jessica wasn't your fault."

Sam's eyes went wide. He knew Nick was able to read his thoughts, but he hadn't expected him to pick that one.

"She loved you very much, and she would be hurt to know that you are carrying such guilt over her death."

"But I didn't tell her. I could have saved her."

"No you couldn't," Nick said. "The thing that took her wanted her and would have gotten her eventually. You might have delayed it a little while but it would have won in the end."

"How do you know this? What is it that took Jess?"

In the bathroom Dean had finished his shower. He had soaped up quickly to get back to Sam but when he heard Nick and Sam talking he found himself unwilling to leave the bathroom and interrupt. Sam needed to talk about this to someone who would truly understand and he had that right now. So instead he stood in the bathroom with the water still running and listened in on the conversation hoping to get a little insight into what went on in Sammy's head. He had also been shocked when the conversation turned to the thing that had killed mom and Jess.

Nick continued, "I don't know what took them, but whatever it is it is powerful, evil."

"Is it me? Am I cursed?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because, every woman that loves me, truly loves me, ends up dead over my bed. I mean, that has to mean something, right? Somehow this comes back to me."

"No, it isn't you, although you have been marked."

"What do you mean, marked?"

"Most people who have 'the shinning' had something happen to make them that way. When I was twelve I drowned. I was clinically dead for three minutes. Then I suddenly started breathing. The doctors called it a miracle. Ever since that moment I've had my abilities. Of course I have spent a lifetime learning to use them. Like you, I didn't understand or know what to do at first, and often the information that came my way was frightening."

"I see such horrible things sometimes. Dean always asks me to tell him about my dreams, but they're either to awful to want to recall, or so confusing that I can't make sense of it myself and don't even know how to communicate it."

"Yes, but you've only had you abilities for less than a year. They will improve in time."

""What did you mean I was marked?" Sam asked again.

"You're mother bleed on you during a supernatural event. That leaves a mark. That is how the thing found you once again. You are truly unique in that you have now been marked a second time."

"But what does that mean? If I fall in love again will she also end up on the ceiling? And what about Dean? Is he in danger?"

"I honestly can't tell you about any other woman you may choose to bring into your life. I can see and feel the past and the present but the future is beyond my reach. I do get premonitions like you, that's how I knew to be standing on that street when you two drove up, but to really see the future on demand, I can't do that and I hope I never will be able to."

"But Dean?"

"Dean is safe. I feel this thing is afraid of your brother. There is a reason it marked you instead of him."

"Cause I'm weak," Sam complained.

"No, not at all. Even as an infant it sensed your hidden abilities. Dean was right when he told you that spirits will seek you out because of your abilities. You are vulnerable, but not weak."

"I always feel like such a burden to Dean. I'll never be as good at hunting as he is."

"But you don't have to be," Nick said. "You and Dean are like two sides of a coin. One side without the other is useless, but together you make a whole. Dean is the master hunter, the protector. It is what he does, what he lives to do. He doesn't resent you for it."

"But what is my role? What do I bring to this…partnership?"

"Well the easiest answer would be knowledge, but the true answer is love."

Sam just looked at Nick, clearly confused. "You wouldn't say that if you saw what happened a few weeks ago."

"Ah, the asylum…I was wondering when you were going to bring that up."

"I shot him," Sam chocked, fighting to talk over the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "I looked him in the eyes and pulled the trigger, and the things I said."

"It wasn't you. I can see you, Sam, see to the very core of your being. Your heart is good and genuine. You're love for your brother is honest and true. But you have other feelings there too…confusion, guilt, and even some anger, all of which are close cousins to hate. The mad doctor manipulated you, severed your ties to your goodness and left you adrift in all that anger and guilt, and then he twisted the remaining emotions until they consumed you. Yes, the words coming from your mouth were real thoughts that had passed through your mind, but they were taken out of context, and used to mislead and mean something else. Sam, the real Sam, would no more shoot his brother than he would commit cold blooded murder. The act just isn't even in you."

"I want to believe you," Sam said softly.

"You should, I'm right, and if you will let go of your guilt for just a moment you will feel it yourself that I am right."

"I…I thought…"

"You thought you were evil," Nick guessed. "Your mother, your girl friend, shooting Dean…you thought you were the reason bad things happened."

Sam nodded his head as tears slowly glistened down his face.

"Sam, there is no more evil in you than there is in Dean or myself. As hard as it may be for you to believe, none of this is your fault."

With those words said Sam cried tears of relief. He had waited for so long for someone to tell him the truth…that it wasn't him, that he wasn't the reason people around him died.

Nick patted Sam's arm comfortingly and waited for the boy to get himself under control once more.

Inside the bathroom Dean wiped at the moisture that had collected in his own eyes. He had never known the extent of the guilt that Sam carried. He had suspected, but he had deliberately turned a blind eye because he didn't know how to deal with Sam's problems, and when Dean Winchester didn't know how deal with something he did the only thing he could do, he ignored it and hoped it went away on its own.

He was suddenly very grateful but oddly jealous of this stranger who had walked into their life and helped Sam pick up the pieces of his broken heart and if not mend them, at least get them back in the right place.

Finally Sam had stopped crying and he looked at Nick once more.

"I know Dean protects me, takes care of me, but is it because Dad trained him to, because it's his job, or because he truly wants me around?"

"I'm surprised you would even have to ask that question," Nick exclaimed. "You truly don't see the value in what you bring to your brother, do you? To put it quite simply, Dean would cease to exist without you."

"He would die?"

"I didn't say he would die. The young man called Dean would live, and fight, and hunt, but on the inside, the brother you love and adore would be gone. Without you the job would be all he had left and he would stop living life as you know it. He would become hard, cold, and empty. You remind Dean to live. You remind him that there is good in the world. You remind him to stop and smell the roses as they say. Your very being gives him purpose. You two need each other. You share one of the strongest bonds I have ever witnessed."

"I wish I could talk to Dean this easily. There have been so many times I wanted to ask him something or tell him something but he doesn't do chick flick moments very well."

"It is hard for him to show his emotions, to show his vulnerabilities, and you, Sam, are Dean's greatest vulnerability, and yet he can't do this job without you. That is why the things you hunt sometimes prey upon you."

"Do you think you could talk to Dean? He would never let me talk to him this way, but maybe he'll talk to you."

Nick just smiled at Sam. "I don't think I'll have to talk to Dean, at least not tonight," Nick said knowingly. He was very much aware of the man standing behind the bathroom door who was listening to their every word.

Sam didn't understand why Nick said that but didn't push the issue. Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Excuse me," Nick said. "I believe room service is here. I know you two lads are hungry." As if to prove the point Sam's stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly. "It looks like to food arrived not a moment too soon. There is a second robe in the bathroom for you to wear. When Dean finishes his shower you two can come on into the dining room."

"Okay."

Once Nick left the room both Winchester boys were alone with a million thoughts running through their head, and yet they each felt that some of the burden and fear they carried had been made just a bit lighter.

Dean realized that he needed to leave the bathroom and he finally turned off the shower. He stepped out of the bathroom like nothing had happened.

"Hey, you're awake," he commented innocently.

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," Sam nodded. He gently pulled himself up and climbed out of bed. Moving still hurt, but the pain meds made it much more bearable.

Dean stepped back into the bathroom just long enough to grab Sam the robe so he would have more on than just his boxers and gauze bandages.

Sam slipped into the thick and plush robe and cinched it around his waist. "Nick wants us to come and eat."

"Lead the way. I'm starved."

"Me too."

Sam and Dean walked slowly from the spare bedroom and down the hall. When they stepped into the living room they were both shocked at what they saw. At least a dozen pots of poinsettias adorned the room and a small three foot tree fully decorate had appeared from somewhere and was sitting atop an end table. A roaring fire was burning under the mantle and two stockings were hanging there.

"Was this stuff here when we arrived?" Sam asked. He had been a little out of it but he thought it would have been hard to have missed all of this.

"No, it wasn't," Dean confirmed.

A wonderful aroma had them following their noses to the dining room which had several pine and flower arrangements on it as well as tall candles lit and placed strategically on the elegant table.

The hotel's best dishes and cutlery were laid out and silver warmers covered the plates of food beneath.

"Come boys, have a seat," Nick gestured from the head of the table.

Sam and Dean didn't have to be told twice. The two sat next to each other and looked like kids in a candy store once the covers were removed from their plates.

"Oh man," Dean gasped. He couldn't remember the last time he had food like this. Thick steaks, red potatoes, steamed vegetables, hot rolls with butter, a goblet full of wine, and a stemmed glass holding shrimp cocktail.

The two shared a look and just smiled at each other before digging in.

"Slow down or you'll get sick," Nick warned. "Especially you, Sam, and no wine for you because of your meds."

"Yes sir," Sam responded shoving a potato in his mouth. He usually had better table manners than what he was showing right now but he was famished and the food was incredible.

"Merry Christmas Eve," Nick said with a smile.

Dean and Sam both stopped mid-chew. It suddenly hit them that they were indeed celebrating Christmas, that this kind man who looked liked Santa had taken them in, treated them like family, tended to their needs, and was now sharing a meal with them.

"Merry Christmas," they both relied to Nick, and Dean was surprised to find that he really meant it.

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The story isn't done yet. I figure there is at least one more part to go. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday.


	4. Heart to Heart

Chapter 4: Heart to Heart

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I always enjoy reading everyone's comments.

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Dean shoved the last bite of his slice of chocolate cake into his mouth and pushed back from the table to give room to his expanding stomach. He had literally eaten every bite of food put in front of him and had even eaten two extra rolls drenched in butter and a second slice of cake. He was now polishing off his second glass of wine. The wine was good but Dean would always be a beer man but hey, at the moment liquor was liquor and it was free.

He heard Sam put his fork down on his plate and saw that Sam had also eaten everything he had been given, although Sam hadn't gone back for any seconds. Sam emptied his glass of Coke.

The two of them had talked very little during dinner since they had been too busy stuffing their faces, but they had listened intently as Nick told them happy stories about his wife who had died not long after their second son was born, and about his boys and his travels all around the world.

Sam really enjoyed the memories the old man recounted of his time in Venice and Rome. Sam hoped to tour Europe one day. He knew it was a dream that would probably never come true, but he could still enjoy the stories.

"You boys better get to bed or Santa might not come."

Dean snorted. "Uh, we are really grateful for the dinner and for your hospitality, but we are a little old for Santa."

"One is never too old for Christmas," Nick said.

"Christmas, no, Santa, yes," Dean reiterated with a chuckle that was interrupted by a yawn.

"Fine, maybe there is no Santa, but you two boys need some rest. You're both exhausted."

Dean had to admit the man was right. It had been a long day and now that his stomach was full and two glasses of wine were coursing through his system he was feeling very tired.

"I need to run down stairs and get our bags," Dean said suddenly.

"Me too," Sam said.

"I'll get your stuff, Sam," Dean said.

"Uh, fine." Sam wanted to tell Dean not to look in his bag but that would just get Dean's curiosity up and then he would definitely open his bag. He would just have to hope that Dean didn't find the couple of presents Sam had gotten for him.

Sam stood up and started to pick up some dirty plates.

"Don't bother with that. I will call house keeping and have it all taken care of," Nick said.

Sam nodded. "I guess I'll go back to the room then. Good night, Nick, and thank you."

"Sleep well, Sam."

Sam smiled at him and left the room, leaving Dean and Nick behind.

Dean looked at Nick and the old man smiled at him.

"Thank you," Dean said.

"You're welcome."

"I really mean it," Dean continued. "And I'm not just talking about the food and a place to sleep. I appreciate what you did for Sammy."

Nick picked up a glass of wine and walked into the living room. Dean followed him and walked to the balcony doors. The snow had stopped and a bright moon and several stars sparkled in the night sky.

"You are wrong, you know," Nick spoke up suddenly.

Dean continued to look out the glass doors when he asked, "Wrong about what?"

"Sending Sam away won't make him safe." Dean was shocked that Nick had been able to find that thought in his head. He hadn't even made up his mind to do it yet. He quickly put on his poker face and looked at the old man through the reflection in the window.

"Is this the part where you have a heart to heart talk with me like you did Sam?"

"Maybe," Nick said.

"Listen, I'm glad you were able to talk to Sam, he really needed it, but I don't. I don't need to have a long talk with Oprah or Dr. Phil."

"Maybe not, but you are considering telling Sam to go back to Stanford aren't you?"

Dean sighed. "Maybe." The idea had come to him after the incident in the asylum. He wasn't mad at Sam for that any longer, but he realized that the job was taking a serious toll on his baby brother…that maybe Sam really wasn't cut out for this life…that maybe the job was going to kill him and then Dean would really be alone. He would rather have a living brother in another state than a dead one buried six feet under.

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Sam, you two need each other. If you send Sam away he will cease to exist."

"Let me guess," Dean mocked, "He will become hard, cold, and empty." He was reciting the words Nick had said to Sam earlier.

"No, I mean he will die."

Dean spun around from the window and gave Nick a hard look. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me telling Sam earlier that he has been marked from his encounters with the thing that took your mother and Jess."

Dean nodded.

"Well, if you send him away you will leave him alone and defenseless. Evil things, spirits, nightmares, they will still plague Sam, only now he won't have you there to help him through it. Eventually something will catch him when he least expects it, is least prepared for it, and he will die."

"This mark you keep talking about, what is it, like some cosmic bruise or something?"

"It's more like a neon sign right over his head, especially since the second encounter."

"I still don't fully get this."

"In Kansas, Missouri told you that the poltergeist came to your house because of what happened there twenty two years ago, that the evil had created a wound and made it act like a magnet for other evils to move it."

"So your saying Sam could be possessed? Made evil?"

"No, but I am saying that supernatural things are aware of him when he shows up, and that because of what happened he stands out in a crowd."

"Well what in the hell am I supposed to do to keep him safe?" Dean demanded.

"Exactly what you are doing," Nick told him. "I only have one suggestion to make."

"What?"

"Talk to him."

Dean grunted. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think we are pretty much in agreement when I say Sam isn't like you. He never learned to create that sense of detachment that is needed for your line of work. He feels things, deeply, and every once in a while, he needs a chick flick moment if he is to make it."

"Great! That's just great. So being on the job is slowly killing Sam, but if I send him back to his normal life I will be killing Sam, and you now want me to be all touchy feely!"

"As long as Sam has you and is confident of your feelings regarding him he will be able to deal with what the job will bring. Each of you is the key to the others survival. Still, it would be good for him, and even you too, if you were willing to take a day off every once in a while. Give the boy one day a month and go sight seeing or go see a movie. Take time to celebrate Christmas, birthdays, or other simple things. It's Sam's hope and persistent belief that there is good in the world that draws you to him, but if you aren't careful your forced detachment and the job you do will erode that hope and belief until Sam becomes a carbon copy of your father. Even if you won't admit it out loud you know that a large part of you would die if that were to happen. Most of the time the only true joy you experience is that which comes from Sam, from seeing him happy and healthy, from teasing him and making jokes with him."

Dean didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. Besides, how could you argue with a guy who could read your mind?

"You can't," Nick laughed. "Go fetched your things from the car. I know you are anxious to get your presents for Sam up here for tomorrow. Then get some sleep. Good night, and sleep well."

"You too," Dean whispered and went back to the bathroom to throw his clothes on. He paused to look at Sam. He was sleeping peacefully on his side, curled up in a small ball on his side of the bed. The king size bed made Sam look so small but Dean knew it was simply an optical illusion.

He shrugged on his coat and then left the front door open so he would be able to get back in. At the car he grabbed his and Sammy's bags and then went back inside. Luckily the lobby was empty now that it was so late so he didn't have to put up with the smug stares of the other guests. As he passed the refreshment table Dean found he couldn't help himself. There was about two dozen homemade looking chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies left. Dean picked up a paper plate and put every single cookie left on it and then marched to the elevator feeling rather smug and smiling happily.

Back upstairs Dean dug through his bag and pulled out the two small gifts he had for Sammy and put them on the table under the small little tree. They were wrapped using the Sunday comics. They didn't look very Christmassy but Dean's chest swelled with happiness as he looked at them.

He turned off the lights in the room and looked at the glow of the little Christmas tree. His body was tired and he longed for sleep, yet he sat in the sofa and just stared at the twinkling lights and the tinsel with its two lonely presents beneath it.

Nick was right…right about everything. Dean couldn't send Sammy away and leave him to face danger alone. Sam wasn't the one doing the talking that night in the asylum when he said he hated Dean, and, as much as Dean loathed to admit it, Sam did need Dean to talk to him once in a while, or if not talk, then to at least listen and nod at appropriate times.

That night Sam had tried to explain, but Dean had cut him off repeatedly, allowing the pain to fester. There had been other times to when he could tell, could literally see the desperation in Sam's eyes as he silently begged Dean to talk to him or listen to him. Still, it would be hard for Dean to change. He was a product of his environment and the life he had led up to this point. But for Sammy, he would try.

"Dean?"

Dean flinched, surprised that Sammy had come up behind him without his noticing.

"I thought you were asleep. Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, I simply noticed you weren't there. I thought you would have been sleeping by now too," Sam replied. "What are you thinking about?"

"Who said I was thinking about something?"

"Dean, you were a million miles away just now. I managed to completely sneak up on you. You were either thinking about something or you were on the verge of entering a catatonic state."

Dean smiled. Sam could be such a smart ass. Suddenly Dean sobered and thought about what Nick said. Now was as good a time for a chick flick moment as any other he guessed. Somehow with the lights off and the soft glow the Christmas tree it seemed to ease the moment for him, giving it a sense of surrealism.

"Have a seat," Dean said and slapped the space on the sofa next to him. Sam gave him a look and then had a seat.

The two stared at the tree together. Sam saw the two little gifts but didn't comment on them. After two minutes of absolute silence Sam finally broke the ice.

"It's a nice little tree," he said.

"Yes it is," Dean replied.

"Dinner was really awesome tonight."

"The food was great."

"It's too bad you hair turned blue."

"Yeah, it…what..huh?" Dean exclaimed.

Sam smiled. "Dean what's going on? You're acting really weird."

"I just…I thought maybe we should…you know…talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes, you know, where we each open our mouths and these things called words spill out."

"Dean, you're scaring me," Sam replied, but there was a teasing ring to his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes. Shit, this talking crap was hard. Why couldn't Sammy just realize that when he killed the bad guys trying to hurt him, or carried his ass out of a cellar filled with skeletons that was his way of showing Sam how much he cared? Why couldn't Sam see that actions spoke louder than words?

"Dean, honestly, what's going on?" The smile had left Sam's face and he was beginning to look concerned.

"I know I don't like getting all emotional, and I'm sorry if I've sometimes hurt you by telling you to shut up or drop something when you needed to talk about it."

"Wow," Sam gasped and crinkled his brows. "Where did that come from?"

"It's just, I know at times things have been awkward between us since the mad doctor scrambled your head, and that you…you blame yourself for a lot of things and I haven't really given you a chance to get that stuff off you chest."

"I…I don't…uh," Sam couldn't believe it, for the first time Dean was starting a chick flick moment and Sam was suddenly speechless. He had rehearsed the things he wanted to say to Dean when the time was right over and over and all that rehearsing had been for nothing because he was drawing a blank.

"Sam, I don't blame you for anything that happened in the asylum. It wasn't you. I know that now. Part of me knew it even back then, but I was kind of pissed off."

"That's an understatement," Sam replied. "I just wish I had been stronger…that I could have fought it, and that I hadn't hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, the evil doc did. Besides, with as often as you get hurt I guess it was just my turn that night."

"I'm sorry about the guilt trip I laid on you tonight at the shelter," Sam said. "I just really didn't want you to leave me. I know you were just looking out for me, but ever since the asylum, I think part of me has been afraid that you wouldn't want me around anymore, that you wouldn't be able to trust me anymore."

"Sam, I trust you with my life. You've had my back and proved yourself many times. You need to not be so hard on yourself."

The two entered another moment of silence as both struggled to find something to say next. Finally the tension was getting to Dean and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm sorry you aren't going to have your perfect normal life. I'm sorry you have the shinning and that Dad has disappeared on us. I feel like I did this to you and it sucks and you have no idea how badly I wish I could trade places with you so you would be free to walk away."

"Whoa, Dean, stop. You…you didn't do this to me. I've never blamed you and…and I think that maybe…maybe I need to stop blaming myself. I'm…none of this was ever really in our control. Our lives…they were pretty much predetermined the night mom died. I tried to run away, but I know now that I'll never have a different kind of life."

"But this life doesn't have to be all bad," Dean said, trying desperately to give Sammy some of that hope he needed to hang on to. "I think…uh…we need to start doing other things once in a while."

"Other things?" Sam questioned and shook his head in confusion.

"Yeah, you know, like…go see the Grand Canyon."

"Dean, you hate camping."

"I'm not talking about camping! I'm saying that I know you need a break every now and then."

"What like take a vacation?" Sam chuckled.

"Sure, why not."

"Dean, you wouldn't even know what to do with yourself if we went on vacation."

"I'm not saying we have to make a week long trip out it or anything, but you know, when a job is done, if there is something…fun…something close by, we should stop…enjoy a day off. Like, if we're in Tennessee we could see Graceland or if we're in Florida we can go to Disney World. You know…do something that doesn't involve weapons."

"With our luck we would go to Disney World and get attacked by ghost pirates on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride."

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," Dean moaned. "See! This is why I don't do chick flick moments! Let's just set the record straight so I don't have to do this again any time soon. I love you! You're my baby brother and I love you…always…even when you piss me off, even when you are driving me crazy…like right now…and even when you get possessed and shoot me with rock salt! Can we stop this now? Please!"

"Dean?"

"What!"

"I love you too," Sam said with a grin.

Dean opened his mouth to let out some snarky comment but no words came. He closed his mouth and sighed. As crazy as it sounded, he felt better.

"Can we go to sleep now?" Sam asked. "I'm really tired and I think I might actually be able to sleep tonight."

Dean smiled and ruffled Sam's shaggy mop. "Yeah, let's get some shut eye."

Dean stood up and took several steps toward their room but stopped when he saw Sam wasn't right behind him. He looked back to see Sam looking through his bag. Then Sam pulled out two small presents and set them under the tree next to the ones Dean had laid down. Finally Sam turned around and the two went back to their room to get some much needed sleep.


	5. Yes Boys, There is a Santa Claus

Chapter 5: Yes Boys, There is a Santa Claus!

Sam woke slowly with a feeling of warmth and comfort. The bed was soft and the pillow cushioned his head just perfectly. He felt he was floating on a cloud and even the pain and tenderness in his back weren't enough to ruin the overall feeling of peace his body felt as he lay wrapped up in the Egyptian cotton sheets and the thick and heavy comforter.

He pulled his eyes open and smiled when he saw Dean's sleeping face. Dean was on his side facing Sam and he had the covers bunched up under his chin. Dean must have sensed he was being watched. His eyes flickered open and he gazed at Sam for a minute before rolling over on to his back and stretching out all his limbs. He sighed deeply and then breathed out as he relaxed his muscles.

Both Sam and Dean started when a knock came from their bedroom door.

"Room service," a voice called, and then without waiting for an invitation the door opened and two men carrying bed tables entered the room. Dean pulled himself up quickly, not used to people just walking into their room. He felt vulnerable and exposed, especially since he realized his knife wasn't under his pillow.

Sam sat up as quickly as his stitched back would let him.

"Good morning gentlemen," one of the waiters said and placed one of the tables over Dean's lap. Sam found his own table quickly set down over his legs as well. Two silver covers were removed to show scrambled eggs, sausages, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. Each table also carried a steaming cup of coffee as well as a small glass or orange juice. Then, as if that wasn't enough, a bread basket holding several cinnamon rolls and hot blue berry muffins was put on the night stand. Two news papers appeared like magic and were placed on the bed, one for each of them. Next, the doors to the armoire were opened to reveal a television which was quickly turned on to CNN. The remote control was put down on the bed next to the news papers.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Uh, no, this is good," Dean stammered. He quickly shielded his eyes when the other waiter went to the window and drew back the heavy drapes that covered the picture window.

They just now noticed that their room had a glorious view of the harbor and the boats out on the water. Once again large puffy snowflakes were falling softly creating a perfect Christmas scene outside.

"Merry Christmas," the service man called before the two men left the room and closed the door behind them.

"Okay, that was weird," Dean announced.

"Definitely, but they brought food, so at least it was a good kind of weird."

"I don't think I've ever had breakfast in bed before…at least not like this," Dean smirked.

"What? Eating stale Lucky Charms out of a superman bowl doesn't count?" Sam laughed.

"You know what I mean," Dean chuckled.

"It's strange," Sam said.

"What is?"

"Yesterday it felt like the end of the world. We were broke, hungry, and I was alone at that awful shelter."

"Sam, I already apologized for that," Dean spoke up with a frown.

"No, I know, but the point I'm trying to make is, look at this place. Look at where we are and the food we're eating. One minute we're facing the very real possibility of freezing to death in the middle of the night and the next minute we're being treated like royalty. Like I said, it's strange."

"Strange or not I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth," Dean replied.

For the next fifteen minutes they casually ate their breakfast and Dean flipped though the channels. He set the remote down to watch _America's Most Haunted Towns _on the Travel Channel.

"Dean, its Christmas. Can't you stop thinking about ghosts for just one day?" Sam asked.

"I'm not thinking about ghosts, I'm watching television."

"Television about ghosts," Sam laughed. He grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels and stopped when he found _A Christmas Story_. "See, this is good. It's festive and funny, and there are no monsters or ghosts."

"I don't know about that," Dean teased. "That kid who plays the bully is pretty freaky if you ask me."

"You just don't like him because he reminds you of Rudy. God, that evil little kid terrorized us for the entire three months we lived in Salem."

"You mean he terrorized you," Dean pointed out. "I had to rescue you from that menace every other day it seemed."

"I remember one fight where he managed to get the better of you and gave you one heck of a shiner."

"That was a fluke. I was trying to see if you were okay since he had just punched you in the nose and you were spewing blood everywhere. He got me while I was distracted."

"Yeah, sure," Sam smirked.

Once Sam finished eating as much as he possibly could he reached over, popped an antibiotic and a pain reliever into his mouth, and swallowed them down with his juice.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

"A lot better than I was yesterday," Sam replied. "The stitches are tight but as long as I don't move too much they don't hurt that badly."

"Well, I want you to just take it easy today. The last thing we need is for you to rip those stitches open."

"What ever you say, mom."

Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed a blue berry muffin, and tore open a packet of butter.

"Where are you putting it?" Sam teased.

"Hey, it's not every day we get to eat like this. The way I see it, we need to gorge ourselves now to prepare for the lean times ahead."

"Dude, you sound like a bear about to hibernate," Sam laughed.

"Go ahead, laugh it up, but you could use a little fattening up," Dean chided.

Sam fluffed his pillows and lay back in the oversized bed. With a full belly once more and the warmth of the heavenly soft blankets still surrounding him he felt his eyes closing and might have fallen back into a contented sleep if there hadn't been another knock on the door.

"Yo," Dean called.

The door opened to reveal the two waiters once more. The men quickly and quietly moved into the room and removed the trays from Dean and Sam's laps but not before refilling their coffee cups and setting them on the bedside tables. The waiters started for the door.

"Excuse me," Dean asked before they could leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"Uh, is this kind of service typical here? I mean, does everyone who stays in the penthouse get treated this well?"

"Only when the service is requested," the waiter told them. "Someone called the kitchen and requested breakfast and wait staff to come up to the room. Was everything satisfactory?" the man asked nervously.

"Yes, everything was great," Dean replied. "Thank you."

"Your welcome, sir." The waiter closed the door and Dean and Sam were alone once more.

"Sam, I believe you when you say we are safe here, and believe me I'm grateful, but I still don't get why this guy took us in and is making a point of spoiling us like we really are his grandsons."

"I think he's lonely," Sam said. "He has no family left. He's old and alone. I think he's really having fun doing this."

"Is that a hunch or your vibes talking?"

"A little of both I think." Sam climbed out of bed. "I'm going to go wash up."

"Don't get your stitches wet."

"Dean, do you know how many times I've had stitches? Believe me, I'm not going to get them wet," Sam griped.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean said and flopped back onto his pillows. He might as well get a little more rest while he waited for Sam to take his sponge bath. He had showered last night and he didn't feel the need to take another one right now, which was good since he was eager to have Sam open the gifts he had gotten him.

Another knock on the door had Dean moaning. Didn't this place realize that a bedroom was for sleeping? What were the waiters going to do now? Were they planning on wiping his ass if he took a shit?

"Come in," Dean said, and suddenly sat up a little straighter when Nick actually opened the door.

"Good morning. I trust you and Sam slept well?"

"Yes, yes we did," Dean replied. Actually it was one of the best nights of sleep he had ever had. Even Sam had been nightmare free.

"And how was breakfast?"

"It was great, uh, thank you for doing that. I don't have much money, but I would like to repay you for at least some of the expense we've caused you."

"Nonsense," Nick replied with a wave of his hand. "I have more money than any one person should have and at this stage in my life there is no possible way I can spend it all before I die."

"Uh, okay. Thanks again," Dean said, feeling a little awkward. He was used to making his own way in the world and was unaccustomed to charity.

"I assure you this isn't charity. I have been duly compensated by you and Sam. When Sam is done washing up there are a few surprises for the both of you by the tree."

Before Dean could question the man, Nick pulled the door closed. Dean continued to lie in bed until Sam came out ten minutes later wrapped once more in the plush bathrobe.

"God I feel better," Sam said. "It's so good to be clean."

"So little brother, you ready to open your presents?"

Sam's face lit up into a genuine smile. 'God, he looks like a little kid,' Dean thought and smiled himself.

"Whenever you are," Sam replied.

Dean hopped out of bed and pulled on some sweat pants and a t-shirt. Together the two walked into the living room and once there they stopped and did a double take.

At some point during the night the living room had been transformed. The poinsettias were still there, but now the fireplace was draped in greenery and candles as were all the doorways causing the wonderful scent of pine to fill the room. The three foot tree had been replaced with one about six feet tall and again it was fully decorated. Even more surprising was the large number of gifts that had materialized under the tree, but sitting front and center were the small gifts Dean and Sam had purchased for each other. Their gifts looked terribly out of place in their comic strip wrappings and lopsided bows when compared to the shiny wrapped packages decorated with ribbons and small trinkets.

Further inspection showed that on the coffee table and end tables silver platters had been laid out with small cakes, chocolates, and nuts. From well hidden speakers came the sound of O' Holy Night.

"So boys, do you still think there isn't a Santa Claus?" Nick's cheerful voice asked.

"What is all this?" Sam asked. A simple act of kindness was one thing, but this seemed really over the top.

Dean was also thinking that maybe the old man really was off his rocker. Maybe he really did think they were his long lost grandsons or something. He felt his mistrust and protective instincts kick into over drive.

Nick just shook his head and smiled. "You two boys need to take a breath and calm down. I'm very rich and this isn't over the top for me at all, Sam, and no, Dean, I'm not crazy and I don't think for one minute that you two are really my grandsons."

"Then you really need to explain what's going on here because honestly, this is just a little creepy right now," Dean said, stepping closer to his brother without even thinking about what he was doing. "I mean, you take us in, feed us Christmas dinner, have breakfast in bed sent to us, and now you've bought out an entire department store and put its contents under a tree with our names on it. Who are you and why are you so interested in us?"

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I know I said the last chapter would actually be the last but the story really wasn't finished yet. It still isn't so yes, there'll be at least one more chapter, maybe two. I promise we'll find out Nick's story in the next one.


	6. Nick's Story

Chapter 6: Nick's Story

"Who I am is simple," Nick replied to Dean's inquiry. "I am an old man who is celebrating his last Christmas."

"What?" Sam asked.

"I have an inoperable brain tumor. The doctors have given me six weeks to live, but I happen to know that I don't have anywhere near that much time left."

"I'm sorry," Sam said true sympathy heard plain in his voice.

"Don't be," Nick said with a smile. "I'm 74 years old. I have lived a good long life, but I have been alone for a long time now, _really_ alone since I sold my company and retired. I know this is my last Christmas and I simply wanted to have someone to spend it with. I think the dying is the easy part. It's the loneliness that is hard to deal with. It is a scary thing to know the day you face your maker is coming and you have no one to talk to and nothing but time on your hands to think and ponder various moments in your life. I should have told my wife not to fly to London that weekend. If I hadn't been so hard on my oldest son he might not have fought me about going into the family business and therefore not joined the Marines. I knew my youngest was abusing alcohol but I didn't know how to deal with it at the time because I was grieving the death of my oldest so I ignored it and he drove into a wall and died. Don't get me wrong, there are good memories too, but even they can cause pain."

"So you see," Nick continued, "Having the two of you here as been a blessing. It has allowed me to focus on someone other than myself. It allowed me to do a good deed and plan a big surprise. Once again I felt important. I felt needed. But best of all, it allowed me to not be alone, and there is nothing worse than being all by yourself at this time of the year."

"I can understand everything that you're saying," Dean replied. His voice was softer, a little less cautious as he continued, "But why us?"

"I knew the two of you needed help yesterday. I had a vision of your coming and I knew I needed to be there when you arrived. I know the life you live is hard and taxing. I know that you both feel invisible to the rest of the world. I know you don't have a family to go to at the moment. We are all sort of in the same boat you might say."

"When I first approached you two last night I hadn't planned to do all of this. I was simply going to give you a place to sleep and something to eat, but then I got to know you both and well, you remind me of my boys. It has been a long time since I've had the chance to spoil someone, to put a smile on someone's face, and watching you boys last night and talking with you both, I guess I just felt a connection to you both. So does that answer your questions?"

Dean and Sam both looked at each other and then back to Nick.

"I'm sorry I thought you were crazy," Dean said.

"It's understandable," Nick laughed. "So how about it? Are you two ready to open your presents?"

"Nick, you do realize that we live in a car for the most part," Sam grinned. "There is no way on earth all of this will fit."

"That's fine," Nick laughed. "I guess I did get a little carried away. Once everything is open you two can sort through the things you want to take and leave the rest. I do have one favor to ask though."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Take the day off from hunting. Stay here just for today, celebrate Christmas with me, and make an old man happy. Tomorrow you can drive out of here and get back to your job and when you do you both will be rested and well nourished.

Dean looked at Sam and smirked when he saw Sam nodded his head. Dean knew his baby brother well enough to know Sam would never walk out on this old guy who had been so nice to them and had taken care of them. Sam would give the man the only thing he had to give as payment for his kindness, companionship.

"Looks like you have a deal," Dean said.

"Wonderful," Nick exclaimed. He had a seat in a wing back chair that had been pulled close to the tree.

Sam had a seat in the sofa which left Dean to sit in the floor and play Santa. At first both boys had felt slightly awkward opening presents from a stranger but soon the oddness wore off and the two were actually having fun.

Dean was really happy for Sammy. This was the first time Sam had ever had a real Christmas, the kind that you got to see in the movies.

Sam peeled the paper off and opened a box that held an oxford style white Polo shirt in it. Sam knew the shirt cost a fortune, well at least what he and Dean would have considered a fortune.

"How did you know the right size to buy?" Sam asked.

"The shinning does have its uses," Nick replied. "That's how I managed to do so well in business. It's easy to make the top of the Fortune 500 list when you can read your colleagues and competitors minds."

"Yeah, I guess that would be a handy little skill to have," Dean agreed as he opened his next box. Like Sam he had already opened two boxes with shirts in them, but this one was too big to be a shirt box. When the paper was removed he saw that it was a cooler for the car, the kind where you plugged it into the cigarette lighter.

"This will definitely be useful," Dean said. "Look Sam, we now have a fridge for the car."

"Great." Sam's next present was a GPS for the car.

"That should make finding where you need to go a little easier," Nick said.

They continued to go through there presents one by one. They each received new duffle bags, more clothes, Sam got a parka to replace his blood stained one, there were hunting knives, a new laptop, a portable DVD player for the car along with an assortment of the newest releases, mostly action flicks, and even a CD player for the car so Dean could finally replace the out of date cassette player.

Sam opened the next present and saw a wooden box. It took a moment for him to realize what it was. "This is cool," Sam said. It was a combination chess and checkers set. One side of the box was a chess board, and the other was checkers. Inside he found all the pieces along with a deck of cards and dice.

Both Sam and Dean were really surprised by how much thought Nick had put into there their presents. He had made a point of getting them things that would make being on the road day in and day out easier, whether it was keeping snacks cold, getting directions, or finding ways to entertain themselves during down time or long drives. When all was said and done there was several thousands of dollars worth of merchandise under the tree.

Finally they were down to the last four presents, the ones that Sam and Dean had bought each other.

Sam went first. He opened the first present to find a copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_.

"I remember back in high school that was your favorite book," Dean said. "You read it like five times."

"It was. I'm surprised you remembered." He opened his next gift, which was very thin, and suddenly felt his emotions start to rise.

It was the size of an 8 x 10 portrait, but it was a collage of the baby pictures they had gotten when in Lawrence. Dean had mounted them to a sheet of card stock and then had it laminated. In the center was the one of the entire family standing in front of their house, Dad holding a five year old Dean and Mom holding an infant Sam. In the top corner was one of Dean holding him when he was just a baby. Dean looked so happy. Other pictures showed the family at happy times; Mom smiling and waving, Dad tossing a ball to Dean.

These were pictures of memories he didn't have, but they had happened. This was proof that he had come from a normal family once and that his father had been a real father once, the kind that played with his kids, the kind who smiled and wasn't afraid to show the love he felt. Sam's eyes glistened and he blinked several times to hold the tears back. After last night Dean surely couldn't handle another overly emotional moment.

"Thank you," Sam finally said, swallowing at the lump in his throat.

"Merry Christmas Sammy."

"Merry Christmas. Now it's your turn."

Dean tore open the first package and found a leather bound book on Demonology. He had wanted the book a few months ago when they had gone into an antique book store but it had cost too much.

"Sam, where did you get the money for this?"

"I had a little left from my student loan," Sam said with a shrug.

"Wow, thanks."

Dean opened his second gift laughed when he saw a portable CD player with head phones.

"Is this your way of trying to not listen to my music anymore?" Dean asked.

"Who, me, nah. But, if you should happen to like them, I've already taken the liberty of burning you three CD's with all your favorites on them. It took me hours to download all of them."

Dean smirked. "Well, now that we have a CD player for the car your CD's will come in handy." He couldn't help but laugh at crinkled brows and grimace on Sam's face.

"Yeah, that'll be just great."

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Having finished showering and shaving, Dean pulled on his new clothes and had to admit they were pretty nice. He looked in the mirror and almost laughed at how freaking preppy he looked. He had on his trusty blue jeans, but now he wore a blue button down Polo shirt with a brown cable knit sweater pulled over it. They were the clothes Nick had bought for him and he had expected them to be as uncomfortable as that damn suit he and Sam had wore when they posed as Homeland Security Officers, but they were actually pretty comfortable and it would help him and Sam not look so out of place here.

He stepped out of the bathroom and found Sam sitting on the side of the bed. Sam was also wearing new clothes. He could see a stiff white collar sticking up from under a royal blue sweater that had some sort of tiny crest stitched on the pocket.

Sam looked at Dean and smirked.

"Don't say one word," Dean warned. "So help me I'll give you the mother of all wedgies if you comment on these clothes."

"All I was going to say is that you look nice," Sam replied.

"Well of course I do. I am the handsome one after all."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Sam chuckled.

"You okay?" Dean asked when he saw Sam looking less than peachy.

"Yeah, just my back started hurting some."

"Did you take your meds?"

"Just popped one," Sam replied. "It'll kick in soon enough."

"Well why don't you stay here and get some rest," Dean offered.

"No, I'm good, really."

The brothers walked back into the living room and found Nick had set up the chess game.

Nick looked up at the boys. "My, you two clean up really well. I dare say the girls at the country club would be fighting over the two of you."

"Uh, thanks," Sam said feeling a little embarrassed but he looked over to see Dean grinning in all his macho glory.

"Would either of you like to play chess? I do love the game."

"I will," Sam offered.

Dean watched as Sam and Nick played their chess game. The game lasted for about fifteen minutes before Nick won. Halfway threw a second game and Nick was beating Sam terribly once again.

"You know, this isn't fair. You can read my mind. You know what move I'm going to make before I even make it," Sam joked.

"True, but even if I couldn't read your mind you chess game is really rusty," Nick chuckled.

Dean started laughing which earned him a glare from Sam.

"Fine, I'll play Dean next," Sam said.

"Sure, no problem," Dean said. Chess was actually a game Dean was really good at. Chess was like going to battle. You picked out a strategy, anticipated your opponent's moves, counterstriked, and then conquered. And, if that didn't work, you could always use distraction to reposition a piece when your opponent looked away. Sam was going to get his butt whooped.

A few minutes later Nick claimed victory for the second time and Sam set the board up to play Dean. Dean just smiled smugly when twenty minutes later he beat Sam, leaving his baby brother to sit there with his jaw hanging.

"When did you learn to play chess?" Sam asked.

"Dad and I had to do something in the evenings to amuse ourselves once you went to college. Plus Dad said it was good for helping to think strategically."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Sam griped.

"Oh chill out, you're just mad that there's something I can do better than you," Dean pointed out.

Sam was about to respond but there was a knock at the door. Dean hopped up and opened it. In came two women who went to the tree to start cleaning the mess from all the wrapping paper and then two men pushed in a cart that was heavy with food.

The Winchester boys watched as covers and lids were removed to reveal a whole turkey, a spiral ham, and serving bowls filled with mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn, and cranberry sauce. A bread basket was filled with croissants and butter. Finally set down on the sideboard was an apple pie, a cherry pie, and a large tiramisu cake. Glasses were filled with wine, water, and soda.

"Will there be anything else?" one of the waiters asked Nick.

"I believe this is quite enough," Nick replied. He quickly scribbled his signature at the bottom of a piece of paper and showed the men and the cleaning crew out.

"Wow, I could definitely get used to this," Dean said.

"What, being normal?" Sam asked as he stared at the bounty before them.

"No, being rich," Dean laughed. He pulled out the seat for Nick to sit in and helped him slide up to the table. Then Sam and Dean had a seat as well.

"I would just like to say thank you to you two," Nick said. "You have given me a real Christmas and you'll never know how grateful I truly am."

"I feel like we're the ones who should be thanking you," Sam said. "No one has ever done for us what you have." Dean nodded in agreement.

"Well," Nick said, "let's eat while it's hot. Dean, will you do the honors?" He passed Dean a large carving knife and Dean stood to slice apart the golden roasted bird. He wasn't exactly sure where to start.

"The breast," Sam said.

"What?"

"Start at the top and slice down."

"I know that," Dean griped but then did as Sam said. Soon every plate had turkey.

Sam picked up the serving fork and placed slices of ham on each plate. Finally all the bowls were rotated around the table as they put large helpings of various items on their plates.

"Oh my god, this is so good," Sam said after swallowing several bites.

"Pass the gravy," Dean said and proceeded to drown his potatoes before shoveling more in. Dean sipped his wine and realized that he could actually grow to like the stuff.

Once again Sam couldn't have any because he had just taken his pain medication, but then Sam wasn't really a big drinker anyway. He would easily get drunk after just two drinks.

"So do you boys have any big job lined up after this?" Nick asked.

"Not really," Dean replied. "We need to take care of some unfinished business from yesterday, but after that we'll just drive until we find something."

"Or something finds us," Sam smirked. "What about you? Where are you going to go after this?"

"I'm not sure," Nick replied. "I think I might just stay here for a little while longer." There was a touch of sadness to his voice that both Sam and Dean noticed. Sam suddenly wondered if Nick had had a premonition of his own death.

"Yes, Sam, but let's not dwell on such things today. It's Christmas, a time for happiness."

"Yes, sir."

Everyone continued to eat and this time even Sam went back for seconds.

"Save room for desert," Nick said.

"Oh God, I can't right now," Sam groaned. "If I eat any more I'm going to be sick." Even Dean finally reached his limits and passed on the deserts, but with the promise he would try them all in about an hour or so. Sam just shook his head. He didn't think he'd be eating any pie till much later in the evening, better yet, maybe tomorrow.

Sam and Dean sat at the table for another moment letting the food in their stomachs settle. Nick stood up and went to the living room. He shut off the Christmas carols which had been playing softly all day and turned on the television set. He turned off all the lights in the room except for that which came from the tree. Then he had a seat in his wing back chair.

Finally Sam and Dean wandered into the living room and joined him, each sitting on the sofa facing the television.

"Is there anything in particular you boys want to watch?"

"I don't care," Sam replied.

"Do you like action movies?" Dean asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Well we could put in one of the DVD's you bought us. There's _War of the Worlds_, _Mr. & Mrs. Smith_, or _Batman Beyond_."

"I'd like to see _War of the Worlds_," Nick decided. "I remember hearing the radio version when Orson Wells narrated it. God it seemed so frightening. I also saw the movie they made years ago, too and loved it. Hopefully this one will be just as good."

Dean placed the movie in the DVD player and turned it on. For the next two and a half hours they sat in comfortable silence and enjoyed the special effects on the large flat screen TV.

"Wow, that was incredible," Sam said at the end.

"Yeah, but man that little girl sure did scream a lot," Dean added.

"Dean, it was the end of the world. People were being slaughtered and turned into fertilizer. I think she was entitled to scream."

"Put it this way, when I was ten I sure as hell didn't scream when we hunted."

"That's because Dad had already trained you not to," Sam pointed out. "If she had been raised like us she probably would have handled the situation better."

"You two remind me of my sons so much. Good lord those two boys would argue about everything and they were so bull headed that the argument would never stop. One time they even came to blows, but I'll tell you one thing, no matter how mad they might be at each other, if anyone else tried to hurt one of them they came together in an instant and protected each other."

Suddenly Nick grimaced and put a hand to his temple.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry, just a bit of a headache. I'll take some Tylenol for it in a bit."

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Sam asked. He felt something was wrong but he didn't know exactly what.

"Yes, excuse me. I'll go right now and take some medicine. I'm sure it'll fix it right up."

Nick left the room. Dean looked at his watch and saw that it was going on eight o'clock.

"We actually need to turn in pretty soon. I want to leave early tomorrow morning. We still need to go back and burn those remains we found."

"Yeah, sure," Sam said softly.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

"Sam, you know we have to leave, right? I know the old guy wanted company for Christmas but I highly doubt he was planning on keeping us around for the long haul."

"I know that. It's just that part of me hates to leave him alone. He's dying, and he has no one. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Sure, but Sam, we can't stay here for the next six weeks waiting for the poor guy to drop dead. It's not our place, and besides, we have to keep looking for Dad."

Sam let out a frustrate sigh.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I know you idolize Dad, and I know your bond with him is stronger than the one I have, but I'm getting tired of looking for a man who clearly doesn't want us to find him. The last couple of months there have been times when we were in true danger, not to mention several near death experiences, and Dad is no where to be found. Do you realize that we could get killed at anytime with what we do, and he wouldn't even know about it?"

"So what then? You want to give up the search for our father in favor of staying here with Nick?"

"No, I'm not saying that."

"Then what are you saying?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know what I'm saying. I guess I'm just thinking out loud. I just wish I understood. If I could simply be told why it has to be like this then maybe I wouldn't have such issues with this cat and mouse game. Why send coordinates but not call and say 'Hi, I'm fine?'"

"Sam, believe me when I say that when we finally find Dad even I'm going to want a good explanation, but I can't quit this. I have to believe that if the rolls were reversed Dad would never stop looking for us."

"I know," Sam said.

"Listen, if this is that important to you, you can stay here. I'll keep going and you stay with Nick, and then…when…when it's over call me and I'll come get you."

"No!" Sam said firmly. "We stay together. Either we stay here together or we leave together but we don't split up anymore."

Dean smiled and gave Sam a soft punch in the arm. "We stay together. I'll make a deal with you. If Nick wants us to we'll stay one more day, but after that we have to leave."

"You mean it?" Sam asked.

"Sure."

"One more day?"

"Just one."

Sam smiled. "Thank you. I don't know why, but I have this feeling that we need to stay here, that it's important."

"What, like the place is haunted or something?"

"No, nothing like that. I…I can't explain it. I wish I could but I don't always understand the feelings that come my way. The visions are easy. It's like watching a movie, granted its usually a scary as hell movie, but these feelings, or hunches, I don't always understand what they mean."

"It's okay," Dean said and placed a firm hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm sure in time it'll get easier to understand what you vibes are trying to tell you. I like this though." Dean moved his finger back and forth pointing at Sam and then himself.

"What?" Sam questioned.

"You telling me what's up. Usually you keep this stuff to yourself and leave me out of the loop."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I guess I was afraid to. I didn't know how you would react to it. I didn't want you to be scared of me."

"Scared of you!" Dean laughed. "Sam, visions or no visions I can still kick your ass."

"Shut up," Sam said, also laughing.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."


	7. The Day After Christmas

Chapter 7: The Day After Christmas

Author's Notes: I **_CAN'T_** believe how long this story ended up being. Seriously, it was supposed to be a one or two shot little sentimental Christmas tidbit that has seriously gotten out of control. I had no intention of writing another novel length story but from the happy reviews I'm guessing most of you aren't complaining:-)

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"These wounds are looking much better," the doctor said. He had returned to the penthouse to change Sam's bandages and apply more ointment to keep them from sticking.

"So no more infection?" Dean asked. He was standing to the side watching the doctor's ministrations closely.

"The skin is still red and swollen but there is no more puss seeping out. That is very good. Just keep these clean and dry. Change the bandage every twenty four hours and apply more antibiotic ointment when you do and he will be fine. The stitches can come out in one week."

Tonight Sam was spared having to be wrapped like a mummy. The doctor put large gauze bandages on the cuts and held them in place with medical tape.

"I want you to keep taking the antibiotic pills I gave you, plus you pain medicine if you need it. If you can tolerate the pain you don't have to take them."

"Okay," Sam mumbled into the pillow.

"There, you're all done. You can put your shirt back on now."

"Thank you again, doctor," Nick said and he escorted the physician out of the room.

Sam stood up and reached for his shirt.

"Well, his bedside manner is definitely better than yours," Sam teased.

"Hey, that guy didn't do anything for you that I couldn't have done myself," Dean insisted.

"True, but getting stitches from him sure hurt a hell of a lot less than it would have from you."

"That's only because he has access to local anesthesia. We need to look into getting a bottle of that for us somehow. Maybe we can find a way to fake a prescription."

"Dean, they don't write prescriptions for that stuff. You would have to actually pose as a doctor to get that."

Dean just shrugged and gave a wicked smirk.

Sam shook his head but he wouldn't complain. Honestly, if Dean could find a way to get a hold of that stuff he would be thrilled.

"Come on, let's go get some pie," Dean said after Sam slipped on his sweater.

"You're going to make yourself ill," Sam warned.

"No I'm not."

"What ever you say."

Dean ended up turning in early after eating a slice of both pies and a piece of the Tiramisu cake. Sam suspected Dean had finally eaten himself sick but wouldn't own up to having a stomachache since Sam had warned him to take it easy.

Sam was sitting at the dining table drinking a cup of hot chocolate while Nick finally sampled the Tiramisu cake with a cup of coffee.

"Nick, if it is okay with you, Dean and I would like to stay one more day."

"You mean you would like to stay one more day and Dean has agreed to give you what you want," Nick smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Sam grinned. "Do you do that to everyone you meet?"

"No, actually. Like you I've spent most of my life hiding my abilities from others. It's actually quite liberating to be with you two and be so open with it. For most of my life I had to censor my every word."

"I can imagine," Sam said. "Do you think my abilities will progress to the level that yours are?"

"I honestly don't know," Nick said. "But I can tell you that you have great power in you. It is still new and undeveloped, but it is there just waiting to be let out."

"What if…what if I don't want to let it out?" Sam asked. "Is there a way to make this go away?"

"Now why would you want to do that?"

"Because, this gift is really a curse. I go to sleep at night only to see the most horrible and grisly images; people being killed, ripped to pieces by monsters, children stolen in the night. It's one thing to deal with it when I'm awake but if only I could turn it off come the night. I feel like I never get a break."

"The few people I've met over the years who lost their power all had one thing in common. They died and came back."

"But I thought that was how you _got_ your power!" Sam pointed out.

"It was. The people I'm talking about have literally died twice and returned twice."

"Wow," Sam gasped. "But, I never died. I've been hurt really bad, but I've never actually died so what caused my powers in the first place? Was it what happened to my mom, but if that's true it doesn't make sense because I've lived most my life never having had this power? It all just started about six months ago, and I can't say that what happened with Jess triggered it either since it started before she…she died."

"Sam, I'm at a loss for your condition. It may have something to do with the thing itself that took your mom and Jess. I think if you and Dean can find that thing and kill it your powers might just go away, but I can't swear to that. It is only speculation on my part."

"It makes sense though. I've actually had the same idea in my head."

"Sam, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"Don't do anything drastic."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, but his face betrayed a guilty conscious.

"I know you have considered suicide in the past. Just know that if you did that, it would kill Dean to, and I mean that quite literally. As for dying and coming back, if you did something to cause you to die, there is no guarantee that you would manage to come back, and even if you did you might still have your abilities. My advice to you is to learn how to cope with this. It won't be easy, but I know you can, and Dean will help you if you let him."

"Is there any way I can stop it just at night?" Sam asked.

"There might be some type of spell or talisman, maybe even a dream catcher, but I don't know. Fortunately for me, I have never been plagued by nightmares the way you have. I have premonitions, but very, very rarely have they been like yours."

"Why are mine so bad?"

"Because of what you and Dean do, obviously. Your ability is trying to serve you, to help you, and unfortunately it shows you what you need to know to continue the hunt and save people."

Sam looked so forlorn, so resigned to his fate that Nick's heart went out to him.

"I promise, son, it will get better with time. You'll learn to control it, and you might even be able yourself to keep it out of your dreams at night once you do."

Sam looked at Nick. He wasn't used to having someone talk to him with such compassion, such understanding. His entire life he had wanted this type of a relationship with his father, but it had been always denied. When Sam would try to talk to the man he would send Sam away, just shut him out. John was too wrapped up with the things in his own head to take time to listen to the needs of his kids. Sam suddenly found himself wishing that Nick could have been his dad.

"Trust me, Sam. I have a great deal of life experiences behind me. When I was younger I was far from being the perfect father. My mistakes were so great that they eventually led to the death of both of my sons. One I drove away, and one I turned my back on."

"But you never kicked your kids out of the house, did you?"

"No, I didn't have to. My kids couldn't wait to get away from me," Nick said sadly. "It's easy to know what you're doing when you finally make it to your seventies. It's easy to understand what is truly important in life once you have been told your life is running out. Unfortunately my understanding and wisdom came to late for my family, but maybe I can pass a little of it on to you and Dean so everything I learned won't have been for nothing."

"I'm glad I had the chance to meet you," Sam said.

"And I you," Nick said. "Well, young man, it is late, and if you and Dean are going to stay one more day, then you are going to need to be well rested because I am going to plan a day of fun for all of us."

"You don't have to do that," Sam said with a smile.

"But I want to," Nick grinned mischievously. "Now, off to bed with you, and when you get to your room please tell Dean there is some antacid in the medicine cabinet in your bathroom. I believe you will find him tossing and turning in your room from discomfort."

"I told him not to try all three deserts," Sam laughed.

"So you did. Good night, Sam."

"Good night."

Sam got up from the table and went to his room. Sure enough Dean was awake and even in the dark room Sam could see Dean's face all scrunched up and his arms wrapped around his stomach.

Sam went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. He found a box of Alka-Seltzer inside and dropped a tablet into a small glass of water. Then he went back into the bedroom.

"Here, drink this," Sam ordered.

"What is it?"

"Alka-Seltzer. It will help your stomachache."

"My stomach is fine. I have an iron constitution."

"Dean, you're two seconds from hurling into the waste basket. Now drink this already."

"Fine, but just to shut you up and make you leave me alone." Dean grabbed the glass and downed the contents in one long gulp. As he passed the glass back to Sam a loud burp escaped his lips.

"Charming," Sam laughed and put the dirty glass back in the bathroom.

Sam brushed his teeth and then went back to his side of the bed. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped between the covers. He would surely miss this bed once they left here.

"Did you talk to Nick about staying one more day?" Dean asked.

"Yes, he's happy about it. He said he's going to plan something fun."

"For a guy who's dying he sure likes to stay active," Dean pointed out.

"He's trying to make the most of the time he has left. I can't say I blame him. You would do the same."

"Yeah, I guess I would. Good night, Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Whatever. G' night."

"G'night."

Sam closed his eyes and for the second night in a row had pleasant dreams.

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The next morning both Winchesters were awoken in the same manner as they had been the day before. Two waiters knocked on the door and entered carrying in bed trays loaded with food.

"Good morning," the one wearing a name tag that read Bob said.

"Hmm, morning," Dean said groggily. He sat up and flattened the blanket around him to make room for his table.

Sam also sat up after raising up his pillow to cushion his back. Then his tray was set in place. "Thank you."

"Your welcome, sir."

Bob went and opened the drapes while the other one set down the newspapers and turned on the tv, once more to CNN.

"Anything else?" Bob asked.

"No, we're good," Dean said as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

The trays were lifted to reveal tall stacks of blue berry pancakes with several mounds of whipped butter on them, maple sausage, Canadian Bacon, coffee, and orange juice. A small pitcher of warm syrup was set on the bedside table. Then Bob and the other guy left.

"Room service is a wonderful thing," Dean said.

"Without question," Sam agreed. "Make sure you enjoy it since we'll be leaving tomorrow."

Dean picked up the remote and changed the channel. He honestly couldn't care what was happening in the world. Wars, politics, scandals, none of it mattered to him. The life he led was so far from the main stream that there had never been any purpose to knowing who was fighting with whom or who was sleeping with whom or any of that other stuff people was worrying about on a day to day basis.

He smiled when he found Tom & Jerry on the cartoon network and put the remote down. He doubted even Sam could find a reason to complain about his choice of TV today and he was right when Sam laughed at the antics on the television.

Dean noticed that Sam was looking really healthy today. There were no bags under his eyes, no creases in his brows, or frown on his face. He looked like someone who was well rested and well fed, and had no major worries going on in his head. He looked like he did that night Dean had shown up unannounced at his and Jessica's apartment, before grief and pain had entered his life once more.

"Dude, you're staring. Is there food on my face?" Sam asked.

"Nope, just noticing how truly ugly you really are," Dean teased.

"Ha, ha," Sam replied and forked a bite of pancakes in his mouth.

"I'll trade you some ham for a sausage link," Dean said.

"Not a chance."

"Come on, please."

"You have your own."

"Yeah, but you really like ham and I really like sausage, so come on, trade."

"No."

"Sam, give me your sausage or so help me I'll wrestle you to the floor to get it."

"I have a better idea."

"What?"

"Why don't you just ask for some more," Sam explained.

"Huh?"

"EXCUSE ME!" Sam called through the door. Instantly the door was opened by good ol' Bob.

"Yes?"

"Can my brother get a few more links of sausage?"

"Of course." Bob left for a moment and reappeared with a small dish holding three additional links which he placed on Dean's table.

"Thank you," Sam said to the man as he walked out of the room again.

"Sweet!" Dean said, speared a link, and shoved half of it in his mouth.

"Just don't eat as much today as you did yesterday," Sam said.

"I told you, my stomach was fine last night. I only drank that crap to get you off my case."

Sam just laughed and shook his head.

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Sam slipped on his new parka and was very happy with how thick and warm it was. Once again he was wearing new clothes with designer labels he had never heard of.

Dean stepped out of his room also wearing new clothes. He put on his coat and gloves and looked at Sam.

"So where is it we're going exactly?" he asked.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Nick has yet to tell us."

"Ah, boys," Nick exclaimed as he came out of his room. "I see you're ready to go."

"Go where?" Dean asked.

"You'll see," Nick said with a large smile gracing his face.

The three left the penthouse and rode the elevator down. Outside a limousine was waiting for them.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked.

"Always. We're going to do something I haven't done since my boys were just little tykes, and something I know for a fact neither of you have ever done."

"What's that?" Sam asked. His curiosity was driving him crazy. He was feeling a thrill of excitement he hadn't felt in a long time.

"You'll see when we get there."

It took about twenty-five minutes before the limo finally arrived at their destination. Both Sam and Dean broke out laughing when they realized where they were.

"The circus?" Dean chuckled. "I didn't even realize these things still traveled around anymore."

"I love the circus. When my boys were little we used to go almost every year until they finally said they were too old to go."

The driver opened the door and the three climbed out and headed for the main entrance. Nick handed over three tickets to the man at the gate and they continued inside. Nick had managed to get tickets for front row center.

Sam didn't even bother to ask how he had managed to do that on such short notice. If there was one thing Sam was now totally confident in, it was that Nick had enough money to pretty much make happen just about anything he wanted, whether it was front row tickets or somehow having a ton of Christmas presents delivered on Christmas Eve when most people had gone to sleep for the evening and all stores were supposedly closed.

Vendors walked up and down the isles hocking popcorn, cotton candy, hotdogs, chips, and snow cones along with assorted toys at outrageous prices.

Sam was enjoying just looking around at all the excitement and watching the kids dance around.

Two elephants were brought out and boys and girls with their parents lined up to get a ride on the large animals' backs.

"Sammy, do you want to ride the nice elephant," Dean teased.

Sam broke out laughing. "Shut up."

"You know you want to," Dean laughed.

"You're hopeless."

One look at Nick and it was clear he was having the time of his life as well. Then the elephants left the floor and the lights dimmed. A minute later the ring master addressed the crowd and announced it was time for the parade of stars. All the performers and the elephants marched out and made a complete circle around the arena. Then the show began.

Even Dean was engrossed in the acrobats and trapeze artists but he was most impressed the two motorcycles inside the cage shaped like a ball. He'd like to have tried to do that.

For Sam the best part was the clowns, in particular the ones that pissed off Dean. For several minutes the five clowns had been throwing buckets of water at each other under the pretense that they were trying to put out a small fire in a garbage can. Then one of the clowns had supposed lost his balance and started stumbling towards Dean. When Dean realized what was about to happen he yelled "Oh shit!"

Just when Dean expected to get soaked a bucket full of gold confetti was tossed all over him and the audience roared in laughter. Dean was cursing and spitting out confetti and Sam was laughing so hard that he thought he might cry. Even Nick's belly was rolling as he laughed out loud.

Finally the show ended and they all headed back to the limo. The boys thought they were going back to the hotel but apparently Nick wasn't finished with his day of fun yet. The limo drove once more to the classy part of the village and stopped in front of the Orchestra Hall.

Sam looked at Dean and saw him looking almost sick. Classical music wasn't exactly Dean's thing and anyone who knew him knew this was going to be a painful experience for him.

"Don't worry, Dean," Nick said, reading his mind. "I promise you'll like this. This isn't just any old symphony. This is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"Basically imagine for a minute that Metallica came out with a Christmas collection. This is what it would sound like."

"I guess that could be interesting."

"Trust me, you'll love it."

They still had time before the show was due to start so they had a leisurely meal in the bistro that was in the basement of the Orchestra Hall. The place had a great atmosphere with its vintage hard wood floors and stone walls. Trees grew everywhere in the restaurant from where holes had been made in the floor to allow for the roots. The overall effect was very nice.

They all ordered soup and sandwiches with gourmet coffees.

"So Sam, tell me about Stanford?" Nick said.

"I liked it there. I got along well with all my professors but man they loaded on the work. There would be times when I would spend entire weekends in the library doing research."

"Why law?" Nick asked.

"I'm not sure," Sam replied. "It just felt right."

"I know why?" Dean announced.

"And why is that?" Nick asked him.

"Because Sammy here truly believes in good, and that it's important to do the right thing."

Sam actually blushed from the complement Dean had just bestowed on him. He wasn't used to Dean talking that way about him.

"Yeah, well it really doesn't matter anymore. That was another life time," Sam said. "This is today."

Dean knew what Sam was saying was difficult for him to actually accept, but Dean was relieved to hear that Sammy was finally accepting the fact that this was his life now and that there was no going back. It would make dealing with the future easier.

After their meal they took an elevator up and an usher led them all to their boxed seats. At this point Dean and Sam would have expected no less of the old guy. When Nick did things he liked to do them in maximum comfort and style.

The lights dimmed and the musicians came out and took their seats. Dean saw that there were tons of percussion instruments and several key boards. He wondered if that was normal for all orchestras. After a few minutes of tuning and practicing the conductor came out to great applause.

Dean watched as the lights went off completely and from somewhere fog machines had been turned on giving the stage a glowing mysterious effect. The music began and Dean had to admit that it was awesome. He had never heard Christmas music like this. This was a jam! Halfway through the show laser lights were turned on and they moved in time with the music.

Dean looked over at Sam and saw he was smiling ear to ear enjoying the show just as much as Dean was.

Finally the show concluded with a heavy rock version of what Dean thought was Carol of the Bells. He was actually tapping his toes to the music. When the last song played the place went wild. Everyone stood up and gave a standing ovation. Dean even put his fingers in his mouth and gave a loud whistle which earned him a nudge in the arm from Sam.

The lights came back on and everyone started exiting the building.

"That was freaking awesome," Dean exclaimed.

"I told you, you would like it," Nick replied happily. "Remember, I can read your mind. I would never drag you off to listen to Bach or Mozart. Sammy might love it but you would be cringing the entire time."

Both Dean and Sam caught the fact that Nick had call Sam Sammy but neither commented on the fact. For Sam it somehow didn't seem out of place for this person who had suddenly become a father figure to him, or at least something of a real grandfather, to use the nickname. For Dean it represented something else. Sam was bonding with this sweet old guy, hell, so was he for that matter, but that didn't change the fact that they still had to leave come tomorrow morning. Dean knew that tomorrow when it was time to say good-bye Sam was going to be crushed.


	8. Saying GoodBye

Chapter 8: Saying Good-Bye

Author's Note: I highly recommend a box of tissue be handy. I cried the entire time I was writing this piece. :-(

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The limo ride back to the penthouse was a quite one. Everyone inside was tired from their long but exciting day. Sam noticed that Nick was nodding off and his head was leaning back against the seat cushion. Even without a brain tumor, he was 74 years-old and didn't have the same stamina as Dean of himself.

The drive was a short one, only fifteen minutes. Sam gently reached over and gave Nick's arm a little shake.

"Oh," he exclaimed. "I'm sorry, did I drift off?"

"It's alright," Sam said. "It's late. We're all tired."

Sam helped Nick up out of the car and kept a hand on his arm as they walked back into the hotel. Nick was finally awake again and Sam let go as they made their way to the elevator.

Upstairs everyone removed their heavy winter clothes and Nick said good night to both Sam and Dean before going into his room for the night.

"That's a first," Dean said. "He usually stays up long after we're asleep."

"He probably just tired himself out today," Sam said, but he had this strange tingling feeling at the back of his neck that he couldn't explain.

They both brushed their teeth and climbed into bed. Sam smiled as he made himself comfortable. Memories of the circus and the concert floated through his head. He had never done either of those things before and they were memories he would cherish forever.

"I had a lot of fun today," Sam said.

"I could tell," Dean replied.

"Did you?"

"Yeah, it was great. I could have done without the evil clowns, but otherwise, it was a good day."

"So we took a day off and you had a good time."

"Sammy, I believe I just said that."

"Sam."

"_Sammy_, is there a point you're trying to make here?"

"Well, I was thinking about what you said a couple of nights ago, that we need to do something fun once in a while. I think you're right," Sam explained. "It would be nice to know that there would be something to look forward to once in a while."

"I get that, but keep in mind we aren't rich. Box seats and limos are not going to be part of the Winchester lifestyle."

"I know that, but I don't need those things," Sam said. "They're nice, but not necessary. What's that old saying, 'the best things in life are free'?"

"I think the person who made up that saying was pretty much full of shit, or was as poor as dirt and was trying to make himself feel better."

"You're missing the point," Sam said.

"Then make your point already so we can go to sleep," Dean grumbled.

"I don't care what we plan; just so long as we have some fun together, you know…something that doesn't involve weapons."

Dean didn't know what to say. He was really touched by what Sam had said, and yet the moment was getting way too emotional for him. Nick had told him to talk to Sam once in a while, but that didn't mean he had to have heart to hearts everyday.

"I promise we'll take a day off sometimes. Good night." With that Dean rolled over on his side hoping to shut Sammy up.

"Good night."

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In his bedroom Nick sat at his desk writing a letter. He would have liked to have taken his time to pen his words but he felt a sense of urgency so he worked diligently. Finally he signed his name and folded the sheet of stationary. He tucked the letter into a matching envelope and placed $500 inside with it.

He walked back into the living room and tucked the envelope into the wooden chess box. He walked to the telephone and dialed the concierge.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is Nick Van Horn in the penthouse. I need a bell hop to please come to the room now."

"Yes sir, right away sir."

Nick hung up the phone and then placed a call to the kitchen to make arrangements for Sam and Dean's breakfast in the morning. The boys would need to eat before they started off on their journey once more. Then he called the doctor and spoke with him for a few minutes and made arrangements for him to come and see Sam at 7:00 am.

Then Nick gathered one of the duffle bags from under the tree and selected several pieces of the new clothing he had gotten the boys to put inside. Finally he put the wooden chess set into the bad and zipped it up. He finished just in time for then a knock came from the door.

Dean's coat was slung across the sofa. He dug in the pocket and pulled out the keys to his car and answered the door.

"You requested a bell hop?" a young man said as he waited by the door.

"Yes I did. I need you to take this bag outside to the parking lot. There is a black Chevy Impala in the third row. Please place this bag in the back seat. Make sure you lock the door and then bring the keys right back."

"Yes sir." The young man took the bag and the keys and Nick shut the door.

Nick walked over to the brandy decanter and poured himself a liberal glass of the amber liquid and walked to the balcony doors. He stared at the night sky and the three quarters moon. It was a beautiful sky sparkling down on the gentle waters below.

He sipped his drink and stood there; content to be alone admiring God's beauty. He lost track of time but was pulled from his thoughts by a rapping at the door. He hurried over, collected Dean's keys and gave the bell hop a $50 tip which set the boys face smiling ear to ear.

"Thank you!"

"Your welcome. Good night." Nick closed the door and put the precious keys back in Dean's coat pocket along with two 100 dollar bills. He swallowed the last bit of his brandy, feeling the warmth of the liquor spread through his body.

He was tired, so very, very tired. He set the glass down on the nearest table and made his way to his room. He paused outside the boys' door and was tempted to open it, but he knew if he did they would wake instantly, their instincts honed so perfectly for survival. So instead he laid his hand on their door and closed his eyes, remembering the joy he had brought to their faces today. He smiled a sad smile and then went to his room and closed the door.

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The next morning breakfast arrived once more. Dean and Sam sat up happily in their bed and waited for their trays to be put down in front of them. The covers were lifted to reveal steak and eggs along with hash browns and toast. Like the first morning a bread basket was set on the bedside table, but this one was huge and filled with cinnamon rolls, Danishes, and hot cross buns.

"Wow, I wonder why Nick ordered so much food?" Sam said.

"I don't know," Dean replied.

The two ate in a comfortable silence. Dean was thinking about the job before them. They would have to go back to the house today and burn the remains of the seven skeletons they had found when Sam fell through the floor. It was strange, that seemed like it had happened so long ago. Had it really just been three days? He would make a point of inspecting that floor very carefully. He might even tell Sam to stay in the car. Sam was taller than Dean, so he weighed a little bit more. Even if the floor was strong enough to hold Dean that didn't mean it would necessarily hold Sam.

Sam's thoughts were still on the wonderful day they had had yesterday. He thought of Nick and how much he was going to miss the old man once they were gone. He would have to give Nick his cell phone number so that they could at least keep in touch for the short time he had left.

Dean finished eating first. He pushed his tray away and stood up.

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay."

A knock came at the door and Sam assumed it was the wait staff returning to remove the mess. He was surprised when the doctor entered.

"Hello Sam."

"Hello," Sam replied. "I didn't expect to see you again."

"Nick called last night and asked for me to come first thing this morning. He said you and your brother would be leaving early this morning and it was important to him that you get checked out one more time."

"He called you last night?"

"That's right. I guess he's still sleeping right now. He mentioned that the three of you had an exciting day yesterday."

Sam rolled over on to his stomach. "Yes we did."

"It's nice that you boys are so close with your grandfather."

Sam didn't reply to the comment. There was nothing to say. He wasn't about to tell the man that Nick was not only not their grandfather but that they had only met him three days ago.

Sam endured the poking and prodding and the bandaging in silence. The bathroom door opened and a towel clad Dean entered the room. At first seeing the doctor had alarmed him but he quickly realized that the doc was just doing a follow up check-up.

"Okay, you're all done."

"Thanks. I don't think I've ever had such a fuss made over a few stitches."

"Like I said, your grandfather just wanted to make sure you healing properly before you two left."

"Well thanks for all your help, doc." Dean said.

"No problem. Hopefully you two won't have anymore accidents."

Sam and Dean just exchanged a look. They both new this would hardly be the last injury they would sustain with the life they lived.

"Good-bye now."

"Good-bye," Sam replied. He went into the bathroom to wash up and shave. He missed taking showers but it would have to wait until Dean took his stitches out. He went back in the room and found Dean dressed and packing up his bag. Dean was wearing his own pants and boots, but he had on a new shirt and sweater. Sam also pulled on some new clothes and stuffed his personal belongings back into his bag.

"The waiter said Nick was still sleeping, that he gave a request to not be disturbed," Dean said.

"When did Nick call them?" Sam suddenly asked.

"They didn't say. Why?"

Sam felt that tingling at the base of his skull once more. The doctor had been called last night. The basket full of food had been left sitting on the table even though the waiters had cleared out everything else. Nick went to bed before they did last night which meant he had gotten back up to make arrangements.

"Sammy, I can see the clock work ticking in your head. Care to fill me in?"

Sam didn't answer Dean. He suddenly walked out of the room and across the hall. The service people were all gone now. They were alone when Sam knocked on Nick's door.

"Nick! Nick, are you awake?" Sam called.

Dean watched Sam pound on Nick's door and suddenly he understood what was about to happen. Dean didn't have any psychic abilities to speak of but that didn't matter. He knew…he just knew what Sam was going to find the minute his brother opened the door and he had this incredible urge to grab Sam and drag him away kicking and screaming before his baby brother had the chance to see…before he had his heart broken all over again. But, Dean knew he couldn't stop this train wreck from happening. All he could do was pick up the pieces like he always did.

Finally Sam wasn't waiting any longer. He put his hand on the knob and turned it slowly. Without moving from his spot he pushed the door all the way open. The room beyond was dark but he could clearly see Nick's outline on the bed.

"Nick," he called once more, praying that the man was just in a deep sleep. He took several tentative steps into the room and strained his eyes to see if Nick's chest was rising up and down. It was too dark to tell.

Sam's vibes were tingling wildly but Sam ignored them. He felt eyes on him and he turned his head to see Dean standing in the doorway. His hands were shoved in his pockets and through he tried to keep his face blank, Sam could see the subtle frown, the downcast eyes.

Sam turned back to the bed and took the last few steps needed to cross over to Nick's bed. He reached down and gave Nick's arm a shake. As soon as he touched the older man he felt how rigid Nick was. Finally Sam reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. A silent scream caught in his throat when he saw the blue and purple features of the man he cared about so much. Nick was dead…had been dead for many hours now.

Sam's knees gave out and he dropped to them next to Nick's bed. He laid his head on Nick's chest and began to cry. At first it was just small, quiet sniffles, but it soon turned into gut wrenching sobs.

Dean continued to stand in the door and allow Sam his moment of grief. Part of him was angry at Nick. The man obviously knew that he was going to die last night. Why else had he gone through the trouble of making arrangements for their breakfast and the doctor and telling them that he would be sleeping in and not to disturb him?

Sure, Nick didn't want to die alone, but it wasn't fair of him to do this to Sam. If they had driven away yesterday like he had wanted to then Sammy could have been spared this pain right now. As generous and kind as Nick had been to them, Dean found it hard to not think of Nick as being somewhat selfish right then, but Dean quickly pushed the cruel thought from his mind. Maybe Nick truly thought they would leave without disturbing him, but then Sam never would have left without saying good-bye.

Sam had slid down the side of the bed and was now sitting in the floor with his legs drawn up. He was no longer sobbing but still he cried softly, large tears running down his cheeks. Finally Dean crossed the threshold and walked over to Sam. He placed a firm but comforting hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sam we have to go," Dean said softly.

"Dean, we have to call someone. They need to be notified."

"Sam, we can't do that. We have to go now."

"What? No way! We can't just leave him here like this!"

Sam pulled away and flung Dean's hand off. He reached for the phone but Dean tore it out of his hands.

"Sammy, stop and think for a minute."

"I won't just leave him here and walk away like he meant nothing. He deserves better than that. He took care of us! Now it's our turn to do something for him. Dean, he has no one. If we leave it might be days, hell weeks, before someone finds him! His body will…it'll be…" Sam was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Dean literally grabbed Sam by his shoulders and shook him to get him to calm down some. "Damn it Sam, I know right now you are thinking I'm some heartless bastard, but listen to me!" Sam glared at him. "I liked Nick too, and this isn't fair, but we can't call anyone! The hotel staff thinks we are his grandsons. When the authorities show up they are going to ask questions. They'll ask you who should be called and what funeral arrangements you want to make. Sam, we don't even know his last name. What are you going to tell the cops when they start asking for information?"

Sam's angry glare disappeared as he realized the truth of what Dean was saying. His resolve to do the right thing crumbled and he nodded to Dean that he understood. Then Dean did something he hadn't done since before Sam went to college. He hugged him. He pulled Sam into a tight embrace and let Sam bury his face in the crook of Dean's neck as Sam continued to grieve.

"It'll be okay," Dean comforted. "Once we leave we'll call the front desk and ask them to deliver a message to him. Then someone will come up and find him, I promise."

Again Sam nodded but continued to hold on to Dean. Dean hadn't even held him when Jess died and right now Sam wasn't ready to leave the security he felt in Dean's arms. They were the same arms that had chased away the nightmares of his youth, but as strong as those arms were they couldn't fully stop the ache in his heart.

Finally Dean released Sam and hauled him up to his feet. Dean pulled Sam from the room and guided him to the sofa and forced him to sit down.

"Stay here," Dean ordered. Dean left a somewhat shell shocked Sam sitting in the sofa and he hurried back to their room to gather all their belongings. Luckily most of there things were already packed. He remembered to grab Sammy's medicine from the table and then he zipped up their bags and threw both of them over his shoulder. Dean saw the basket of food and suddenly smiled. Even though Nick knew he was dying he had still made a point of looking out for them even after he knew he would be gone.

Dean picked up the basket and carried it out of the room. He paused in the hallway and stared at Nick lying in his bed. Dean felt a lump form in his throat. He set down the bags and the basket and entered the room. He walked over to the bed and looked down at the man who had shown them such kindness.

"Thank you," Dean choked out. "I'll always be grateful to you for taking us in when we were literally desperate for help, and for getting a doctor for Sammy. Thank you for giving him a real Christmas, and…and for showing _me_ that its okay to…to talk…sometimes." Dean took a shuddering breath and finally said, "Good-bye, Nick. I'll never forget you."

With that said Dean turned out the light and turned to leave. He was startled to see Sam standing there. For a moment Dean wanted to yell at Sam for eavesdropping, but the lost and hurt filled face before him stopped the angry words before they even formed.

"Come on, Sam, it's time to go."

Sam picked up his bag and Dean carried both his bag and the basket. Dean stopped in front of the tree. The presents that they had gotten each other were already in their bags, but the things Nick had gotten them were still there.

"Sam, do you want any of your presents?"

Sam didn't even turn back to look at the tree. He just shook his head no.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked. "Nick put a lot of thought into it. He wanted you to have them."

Again Sam shook his head. He didn't want any of it anymore. He simply wanted to leave now.

"Okay," Dean sighed.

Dean dug through the pile and found the two hunting knives Nick had bought him and slipped them into his bag. He looked at the rest and then just walked away.

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Notes: One more chapter to go.


End file.
